Rebirth : A bet with Fate
by Dementeris
Summary: Loki died against Thanos, the Lady Death's servant. But, please, don't be so sure about the fact that this silver tongue has pronounced its final words... Thirty chapters, thirty days in which you will follow the (mis)fortunes of our dear Trickster... And you, would you like to take the bet lying upon a lost god in a oh-too mortal world ? Would you take part to his travel?
1. Prologue

Redemption: a bet with Fate

Prologue

There he stood. Tall, strong, determined… Terrifying. He once was at his sides, but now that he had to face the incarnation of Chaos… No! He was the liar, the Trickster, the mad brother and the rooted betrayer. Chaos was meant to be led by a shapeless instrument like him!

_But I don't want to…_

One step after another. Unreachable stars were sharpening each of his facial features. How funny it was to feel this shadow slowly submerge his own, first his foot, next his torso, finally covering his face. A quick glance backwards: the dark figure had not reached the other one. He was safe… How funny… Did he really find this colossal figure comforting years ago?

Then, he couldn't clearly remember what happened. A glimpse of courage, maybe of despair, a mockery, the lights fading, a roar of fury…

"Loki! Run!"

_But I don't want to…_

A hand coming for him, five fingers thrusting in his silky skin as if they wanted to extract each single vein from it. Cries, pain, chokes, exhaustion. The taste of copper on his silver tongue.

_I don't want to die!_

Cold… So cold. Norns, where was he? How did he arrive here? What was this "here" anyway? He tried to get up and failed miserably. Moving a single toe was beyond his best efforts. Pathetic… It seemed he was tied to the ground, but why couldn't he feel any ropes, chains or magical bonds then?

_Okay, proceed, focus…_

_There must be something which will help me to define this freezing hell, let's take a look a-_

It was at this moment he realised the awful reality. His eyes, they were… open, right? Of course they were, he could sense his eyelids' muscles aching, desperately trying to let some light gracing his pupils!

Fear began to rise in his chest. Blind? No! No, no, no! He couldn't lose his eyes, otherwise, how would he be able to see the delicious surprise painted on his brother's face when he would return? Because all of this has been so well-planed! Come on! What could have gone wrong?!

He was now shaking his head like a maniac, unfortunately falling into more of this unfathomable fog. Suddenly, reacting to this frantic over-activity, an acute burn cleared his mind from his anxiety, only to paralyze his brain on a forgotten piece: a memory. It played. Again. Again. Again and again. No, it had to be some kind of nightmare's lost remainder… He was Loki of Asgard! He was the smartest and the most powerful sorcerer of the Nine Realms! He was…

_Dead._

To be honest, he would have loved to say that his heart skipped a beat at this realisation, but the frozen organ seemed to have long lost his so familiar pulse. Difficult it is to notice this sort of things when it so discretely follows you since your creation, like, you know, breat- Ha? Forgive him, apparently, his lungs weren't of any use too. Well, now he knew the reason of this air, which could have competed the nights of Jötunheim: it wasn't the place itself… It was his body. Who could have thought that a Frost Giant could become even colder?

For the first time in what seemed to be a millennium, a true laugh escaped his scared lips. He didn't mind the fact that no sound dared to grace his vocal cords, nor that the silence of this void was as impenetrable as its dusk. In fact, he was far beyond those silly observations: he was dead. After all this years to avoid Her, to _trick_ Her with the most creative plans and forgotten arcanas no one has ever imagined, his miserable existence has finally come to an end…

And what an end! Strangled by a seven foot fallen Titan he was trying to stab… And shitting himself when he had realized that the enchantment he had cautiously prepared in case of this kind of… "unfortunate" encounter, had been corrupted by the power of two damned gems! Such a beautiful and well-crafted fire spell he had stolen to the Dwarves long ago, a delicious antic conjuration which would have released a living inferno. Obviously too weak to definitely kill the Monster, perhaps enough to free the Infinity Stones from their golden prison, but surely just the time he would have had needed to create a portal, grasp the dummy, also called "brother", and get out of this metallic carcass! And yet, that was how he, Loki, prince of Asgard, son of two Queens, had met his fate: suffocated like a thug from the slums after some cards' plays and a lot of alcohol. By Odin's name, he was sure that even one or two Midgardians had died in a more glorious way than that. And with all the filth, sweat and… blood they always scatter, that was quite impressive!

_However, it doesn't tell me about where I have been sent after that._

Maybe it was the fact he had lived around fifteen or twenty human lifespans, or maybe it was his uncommon relation with the oddest aspects of this universe, but the god was sure of something:

_If I can think, then I can plan…_

_And if I can plan, then I can get out!_

He will escape this awful empty place; he will come back from the dead… He had to.

_After all, I did it so many times before…_

Of course, it was all illusions and sparkles, but let's say that it was some kind of minor rehearsals for his major act! He was still in control… Still in control. The big question remained nonetheless:

_So… Valhalla or Helheim?_

The Silvertongue had not enough self-esteem, or perhaps too much lucidity about his achievements, to only daring thinking about joining the bravest -and so most annoying- heroes of their History in their eternal feast. In the other hand, he would be grateful to never encounter their sister's path again. Hela die- disappeared by the hand of Sultur during Ragnarök, but none of the Asgardians, nor himself, was aware of her potential hidden powers… Who knows if she hadn't return to her domain, waiting a couple of turns from the wheel of reincarnations before claiming her right of revenge?

_Not Valhalla,_

_too quiet and dark._

_Not Helheim,_

_no corruption marks and too… "nice"._

_Then where?! Where the he-_

"Hey, calm down, Your Majesty, would you? You're thinking far too loud for the dead man you should be…"

A voice! A fluent, even so exhausted, one, but which wasn't coming from his mind! He knew it, has already heard it somewhere… One who had once echoed through Asgard's high walls, always following the Allmother's steps… That's it!

_That's that little serv-_

"Tu-tu-tut! Welcoming you in my place doesn't allow you to insult my height, nor my ex-status. Should I remember to my Prince that I already have had the privilege to change his delicate nappies?"

An ivory figure appeared in a blink of an eye… Manner of speaking. A quite short teenager, wearing casual dark blue jeans, with an immaculate white T-shirt combined with a purple open jacket, a bit worn out and ridden up to the elbows. Strange plastic multi-coloured buttons had been hooked up to it, matching a street art design pair of boots. They were apparently not affected by the dark slimy matter which was, however, relentlessly licking on their edges as if it wanted to bring their owner to an even more convicted abyss. A checked scarf was completing the new arrival's clothes.

But this intriguing -and so Asgard-unfashionable he thought- arrangement was nothing compared to the two onyx irises, framed by short locks of hair, which were now scrutinizing each inch of his being… Or what has been left. There was no doubt about the identity of this troubling angelic face to which you couldn't give a precise age, nor a gender, it was…

"Humpf – infl!"

Damn it! An amused chuckle escaped from the other's throat.

"What are you saying, my Prince? I'm afraid that my ears are tricking me, because I would have sworn I heard you trying to say my name with those putrefied lungs of yours…"

Purposely playing with the attention of Loki, where frustration and angst were melted, they made a large cup of what seemed to be burning steaming coffee appear. The green and white portrait of an unknown deity was painted on it.

"Because, like I've said before, you are dead…"

They came closer, revealing heavy dark rings under their eyes and red furrows in a tired white. If his nostrils wouldn't be so ineffective, he would have been hit by a harsh Robusta's scent… Extra-black without sugar.

"_And – dead – don't – talk_." They affirmed once more, emphasizing each word, and sipped a bit of the bitter beverage. "Listen, Your Majesty, with this giant mess you and Sir Thor had caused during the Ragnarök, I've received enough work to occupy myself until the next world's reset. So, clearly, I don't have the time, nor the patience, to deal with a "zombie-spirit" like yours." They turned around, ready to walk away. "I'm sorry, Prince Loki, but all those new responsibilities are still quite new for me, and, as Frigga's appointed servant and emissary, I'm sure you will perfectly understand that I have more urgent problems to solve… I will come to correct this "consciousness parameter" later, oki doki?"

As they nonchalantly waved goodbye, he didn't know what forced him, if it was this opportunity, verge on the miraculous, which was now slipping through his cold fingers, or if it was the detached tone, treating the royal person he was like some vulgar cargos, but his soul screamed for his mute throat. He abhorred begging, but at this exact instant, it was kind of an emergency case:

_No, Hlin, don't go!_

_I can't stay here: you have to help me leave from here!_

_The world, outside, they need me! Thor needs me!_

Okay, he wasn't entirely sure of the last part but, at least, it made them stop for a bit. However, he really didn't like the electrical glance of pure sarcasm which passed on their smiling face…

"Aww, look at that: Loki, adopted son of the Asgard's crown, the magnificent and so clever Loki, begging like any peasant would do to save his carcass from the destiny's claws!" They took some steps back, mimicking his voice and accompanying it with caricatured gestures. "Please, oh great Hlin, listen to my prays! I'm too young for this! I've got so many feats still left undone! I've got a family, a house, a dog, a land, a kingdom and whatsoever! People will miss me! If I die, the world won't be the same!"

A bark of laugh finally took them. Try again.

_Hlin, you must under-_

"Enough!" The banters' time was over. "You have no more rights in this domain, my Sir, neither the ability to command, nor to domineer me as you've already done in the past either! You may have been a Prince, even a King, but never forget that I've vowed to serve Queen Frigga before every- and anything else!"

An amethyst aura appeared around them, as their brows furrowed and their jaw tensed, indicating to the Trickster that he should think twice before choosing his next words.

"Do you really think that it pleases me to have you here?" Their anger was almost tangible, little flash of lightning illuminating the purple atmosphere. "Until your arrival, the other souls were calm, waiting for their turn to be guided to their final resting place… And since the second they've got the wind of your death, they have become agitated, screaming their hate and lust for vengeance against the one who has engaged their end! If I wouldn't have hidden you in this dimension's closet, you would have seen each of your atoms ripped among the four corners of the universe! If it wasn't for the love that our beloved Queen has never stopped to carry for you, I may have been more reluctant to defend this place!"

_But… Why aren't Mother's other servants helping you?_

_Where are Fulla, Lofn, Snortra or even Graa?_

"They can't. They… Just after Queen Frigga's last breath, they have slowly lost interest in fulfilling their astral mission. One after the other, they have… Faded." Sadness filled their voice, slowly washing away their previous nervous outburst. "They're now also a part of the souls I've to take care of, my Prince: I'm the only one left."

He won't deny that, for a moment, he felt bad for the servant's condition. From all Frigga's subjects, and maybe from all the Asgardians who weren't his brother or his mother, they were the third kindest and most compassionate with him. Always a comforting smile, a little sweet, a gentle tap, and even now with his remained titles: Hlin wasn't the "deity of consolation" for no good reasons. Unfortunately for them, when he was younger, those were nothing to him, too occupied he was in his attempts to catch his father's attention, and to learn magic, hoping to equal Thor's strength. However, with the years, he was now regarding these rejected demonstrations of affection with guilt. And melancholy.

_Hlin, I'm…_

"Sorry, I know, my Prince… I know and I swear I would love to believe it with all my heart, as I once did for the bright child you were, before the Norns scattered our respective paths."

And, for a first and too short time, he met two eyes shining with tenderness. The two of them, the corpse of a liar and its abandoned keeper, were facing each other, waiting for the next move. Loki didn't miss it: let's play the card of negotiations then.

_Listen, I know we haven't been… in good terms recently._

"That's the least we can say. But please, don't waste your time in excuses, Your Majesty, because they have no longer their place in this void."

_I wasn't about to beg for your pardon, _

_even if I know I should have been more grateful for all what you've done for-_

"Please, stop beating around the bush like that." Impatience rose again. "I can see how you have changed, Prince Loki, but you can't replace centuries of service for your family. I know that you never do something without a purpose: what is it?"

_Send me back to the livings._

"I'm not allowed to do that, and you perfectly know it."

_That's not true!_

_Many warriors and heroes, even mortals have come back from Helheim, like Baldr for example!_

"But we're not in Helheim, and you aren't Baldr. You are Loki."

_What's that supposed to mean?_

_You have seen how I died, right?_

_So, you've witnessed that I've nothing to do with the one I once was!_

"I've said that you've changed, not that you've become better. From the last news, you freed Sultur, to stop your sister's devastating plans, yes, but causing Asgard's fall nonetheless."

_As if all of this was my entire fault!_

_It's not me, who've wanted to destroy my own land!_

_It's not me, who've wished for my family's destruction!_

_It's not me, who've hoped to suffer from silence, fear and hatred!_

_Hell, did I ever want to be kidn- !_

"And yet, over all the possibilities left, you still chose to break, to hurt, to kill… Should I even say to murder..."

_What I was supposed to do then? Sitting and accepting this life like I was the only one culprit?_

_Why do I have to bear all the sentences when Odin should have be- !_

"The AllFather had had, indeed, no rights to push you in so much pain, then claiming you "his son" without knowing he would have condemned any other Asgardians for such awful acts against his own flesh." Wh-? Are they… defending him? "But you always have had a choice, even if you don't think so, and you let your eyes linger on the past rather than turning them towards new roads…"

_How could have it been otherwise?!_

"You pretend that you've changed, that's right, you've taken a different path from the one you've originally been destined." A hum, a sip of coffee. "But still, it appears that you don't understand how and why your choices do define who you are. You're my Prince by birth, you're Silvertongue by acts. And don't even try to deny that you initially planned to trick Fate… to trick me… _Again_…"

_It has never bothered any Asgardian to have benefits _

_from the cleverness they were lacking of!_

_I've helped and saved them more times than they have spat on my name!_

"One Realm, one King, one Heart… But again, I've devoted myself to my Queen, and so my heart to all his protégés. I would have thought that you were aware of that: you don't have to redeem yourself my Prince… I don't need to understand what I've already forgiven. What I am asking you is more personal: why should I overstep my oath to my Queen for you?

Norns! Why do they have to be so… right? His arguments' list was undeniably shrinking: his escape plans were running out as the servant's dedication towards their sacred mission remained unyielding. Okay… More personal… Next round.

_Then, if I don't come back, what will happen to Thor?_

_To our people who have managed to flee with the Valkyrie?_

"Again, you force me to repeat myself…" They sighed. "Every soul I have guided through my so long existence has the same speech. They will continue to live without you, my Prince." They took another sip of their repugnant drink as if it was clear water, bowing slightly like they were excusing their next sentence. "And they already had…"

A strange and odious shiver ran down his inert spine.

_Wh-What are you trying to tell me…?_

_That's… That's not even possible! I've just died minutes ago!_

_They can't have forgotten me already!_

"Rectification, Sir Loki, you've awaken about ten minutes ago." A sad smile appeared. "It doesn't mean that your death is a recent fact. Actually, you've been correctly "last-sleeping" until this inci-"

_How much…?_

"Hum? How much what?"

_Don't play the fool with me, Hlin!_

_How much time has passed since I died!?_

"Five…" Their gaze dropped on the cold dark floor.

_Five what?!_

_Days? Weeks?... Months?!_

"It has been five years, my Prince."

And then, the silence took over its dead kingdom once again. However, in the Trickster's mind, thoughts and feelings were crashing in the most confused orchestra you would have ever heard.

After all the pain he had gone through, all he has done to keep his head off the water with the traitorous rapids his life has become… For all he had sacrificed to try to fix it.

A millennium devoted to find the existence his father had stolen to him; ten minutes to shine on stage and savour the torn pieces he had, despite everything, managed to bring back together… And five years of absence to turn his last efforts into pitiful ashes.

_It can't be. That's…_

Unconsciously, his necrotized jaw's muscles tensed, ready to hide tears of powerless blind anger, which will never come from dry eyes.

"If it can ease your heart…" The second order deity continued with the same soft tone. "Your brother, Sir Thor, is still alive, thanks to you. He and a group of Midgardians have even succeeding in defeating Thanos the Titan"

…

"Perhaps you don't understand the difference between roads and ends, but know that you can still be proud of the one you've tried to reach, regardless of all the bad tracks you had taken. Now your people has found a new place on Earth, having confidence in a better future, while its King has wisely decided to abandon his past burdens. Do you know that he's tracking space-bandits with an armed ferret and a talking tree?!" They chocked on their coffee, realising their mistake. "Humpf! Of course you can't know… Forgive me for this memory lapse…"

They awkwardly put a wild strand of hair behind one of their ears, and, after some minutes spent in vain attempts to catch their former suzerain's eyes, they finally whispered:

"Since your disappearance, there hasn't been a day he didn't think about you…"

No response either. So maybe it was time to go and let him accommodate to his new "situation". They turned back towards the rest of the dark labyrinth they were the only one able to read. What could be a last glance was given.

"You haven't been the best soul in this universe, but you certainly haven't been the worst. May the Norns grant you with a more peaceful life for the next reset, Loki, Prince of Asgard, Odin-"

_Hlin…_

The vibrations coming from his spirit were different. The river has turned into a hungry ocean, each wave determined to make this little fort on the coast fall. Black eyes widened in a quick surprise. A Cheshire cat's smile grew on the other's cold face, now hiding a not-so-dead- silver tongue.

_Hlin… Let's make a bet._

"What?" They sounded confused now, but an ounce of curiosity remained. "A… bet?"

Each creature in the Nine Realms has a weakness, a sensitive spot they try to hide and make forget. It has taken him much time than he thought, but he finally found it! Finally remembered it…

_Nice throw, your Highness!_

_But what about this apple on the top if this tree?_

_Take it with your hammer, Sir Thor, and the beer round will be put on my tab!_

_Tss… You just had luck with this shot, Graa, but I won't give up so easily!_

_This free place for the next theatre piece will be mine!_

_This guard was so stupide: challenging me in a race, really?_

_He should have thought twice before pawning his pay!_

_Come on, Lofn!_

_I bet you your cleaning service that I can bake those pies faster than you!_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_Oh, please my little Prince, don't cry…_

_Look: if you manage to put a smile on this face, then I will give you a piece of toffee._

_How's that? Does the Asgard's mightiest sorcerer up for this challenge?_

Everybody is fallible at some point, and he certainly has learned that lesson at his own expenses. This was exactly the key he needed to unlock his last plan. His final chance. As it has been told before: if he can plan, then he can get out…

"Oh? And may I ask what obscure scheme are you trying to conceal in your clever mind, my Prince?" An oddly familiar playful smile dancing on their lips.

These sweet and naïve memories left him a bit uncomfortable: has the poor deity, with all their golden heart, not enough suffered already? Loki dismissed this idea: he had to go. He would find a way to pay them back. He didn't have the time to consider a philosophical lesson for now.

_Nothing serious, really… I was just wondering if,_

_in the name of the old good times,_

_you would accept to play again with your ex-suzerain._

"Hum…" They seemed to deeply consider the offer. The lust for games battling against the sense of duty. "And what do I have to gain in this?"

_Well, quite everything, if you want my opinion._

"Explain yourself." He could feel distrust still clinging to their loyalty.

_Hlin… I bet you…_

_That I can become a better person._

"What?!" This time, a mouthful of coffee was spurted. "And care to explain to the poor servant I am how you are supposed to do that?"

_Well, that's very simple:_

_First, you send me back with the livings._

_Second-_

"I've said I- !" They objected.

_You said that you "weren't allowed to",_

_not that you weren't able to, Hlin._

"Eh! Point taken, Your Majesty." They smirked, whipping the last black drops sinking on their chin.

_So, let's say -hypothetically of course- that you help me to resurrect…_

_Give me six months, Hlin, and, if in this lapse I succeed in satisfy your criteria of… "goodness", I'll keep this new life._

"And if you lose?"

_If I run out of time…_

_Then I will accept my fate_

_and let you dispose of my soul…_

"Even if it means staying stuck here for the end of times?"

_Even if it means rotting in Hell until this Era's end._

_I won't complain._

"…" Their frown deepened words after words. "It's a very interesting deal, indeed. I could have some use from this time I'm not supervising this cell. But a puzzle piece is missing…"

_What do you mean?_

_No matter the results of this little game, you'll be winning!_

"And that's exactly what bothers me, my Prince, because, in a bet, each participant has to put something in the balance. In this one, my risks are null: with your absence, I'll be able to catch up all the work I couldn't have finished. More than that, there's a chance at the end that I get back the trouble-making soul I would have allowed to get some fresh air." Their dark eyes slightly glowed with a violet halo. "But you, my Prince, you're betting your after-life, only to gain what? Maybe three or four millenniums? Perhaps not even a year considering your tendency to attract danger."

_My reward will be the satisfaction to have proved you that I can be_

_the man no one would have never imagined me to become…_

Besides taking this freedom to think about how he will be able to break this deal, of course.

"Hum… I need to consult the runes first."

_I beg your pardon?_

_Don't tell me that a mature adult like you still believe in those antics?!_

But Loki's protests were vain: the white-haired deity was already tearing a tiny bag in worn leather hold close by thin purple ribbons. They plunged a hand into the odd container, decorated with several arcanas, to expose twenty-four pieces sculpted in wood, rock, metal and even precious stones for some of them. A Nordic symbol also called rune, was carved in each of them.

Sitting with their legs crossed on the indefinable dark matter, Hlin were softly muttering ancient spells, a mix between the Asgardians' chants and religious prays dedicated to the Norns he partially recognised. The former Frigga's servant was a well-known player, but the idea they are superstitious never come to his mind. Guess the two are linked in general… Still, he'll keep this new information: could be useful for later, who knows?

"Well that's interesting, to say the least." The Trickster brutally came back to the present, now nervously trying to decipher the prophecy which was presented to him. By Odin's name, don't let stupid scribbles take away his last hope of escaping!

_So, what does it say?_

"Have Your Majesty already forgotten his divination lessons?" Hlin teased him.

_Of course not!_

_From left to right: past, present and future._

_One rune below the central, the current problem,_

_and another one above, the solution._

"_Five signs to close the cross,_

_A single mark to fix the Fate."_

_Why are you asking me that?_

_I'm not able to see the pattern from here,_

_not to recall horoscope's artifice for dummies!_

"I know, my Prince, but I was a bit too exhausted to explain it to the readers myself…"

_What are you talking ab-?_

"Please don't mind it." They took a longer sip of coffee. "Concerning your prediction, here's what the Norns are telling us: Tyr, the war and destruction, is tangling with the roots of your History…"

_Who would have guessed, am I right?_

The servant ignored the sarcastic comment, as they were lost in their new task. Nothing seemed to be able to impair their current concentration.

"Your days, otherwise, are filled with doubts and fears, placed under Petra's symbol. The reason of this state of uncertainty lies on Odal's message… The heritage."

Loki remained silent: he wasn't seeing any fun or way to lighten this leaded atmosphere about what he could call his "heritage". Troubles, it just gave him troubles… And pain.

"But at the end of the road, I can see…" The deity offered him a discrete smile. "My prince, your future seems to be under Hagall's protection: this bet could indeed bring you to the salvation you were searching for…"

_And how do I get, Hlin?_

_What does the fifth rune's telling?_

Now that he has heard that he still had a chance, his mental voice was pressed with more anxiety. Huh? What are you saying? Of course he has always believed in those stupid rocks! When times are making it a need… A low rumble echoed.

_Hey! What's so funny?_

_Are you… mocking me?!_

"Oh no, my dear Prince, I would never dare to trigger you well too-known rage, it's just… let's say you really had a good instinct by proposing this little challenge."

Hlin took the piece of terra cotta in the hollow of their palm, letting him take a view of it. He tried to hide that the corners of his eyes have risen in amusement: since when have the Norns been so merciful with the "monster" he was?

_Reid…_

"The incarnation of journeys and travellers' spirit."

Some seconds of silence passed after this final declaration, making the Trickster uneased as the souls' keeper was staying stuck in the contemplation of the prophecy. This bet may now be too favourable for him! Even if a single error on his part would sign his own after-death warrant, the stars, for no good reasons, were apparently inclined to watch how far he could go before returning under their control. It's impossible a veteran player like Hlin would ever…

"Well, I accept the challenge."

_No! Please, take time to reconsider y-_

_Hum?_

_Wait, you… You want to take the bet?_

"Yes that's what I said, but thank you for giving it more emphasis." They retorted with an ounce of mischief (which was quite inappropriate for someone other than himself if you want the god's opinion), after another mouthful from the tall paper cup. "But I have to add some conditions to its initial version if you wouldn't mind, my Prince…"

"_No matter what my decision would be, my escape's success still depends on your final choice, so quit your formal attitude and stop pretending to be concerned about my opinion!_" he would have loved to spit towards that too genuine smile. He didn't have any choice. He never had.

Breathe… After all, that's not as if he had six whole years to catch up: five or less minutes won't kill him. How was time working in this play anyway? Not to mention he was already dead…

_What are your demands?_

"Hum, even if I'm now reassured that this little game could possibly lead to your success just such to mine, and so respects the "equal treatment" between the two players we are, I have to confess that it still lacks of… Spice." Loki was about to interrupt once again, scared of what could linger behind these words, but the coffee addict cut him. "So I will only give you one month."

_What?! But it's far too short!_

_I'll never be able to- !_

"Aww, don't think so low of yourself: you're Loki, aren't you? I'm sure you'll be able to handle this ordeal like the grown man you are, Your Majesty. But I'm not cold-hearted for all that: I also have a title to defend…"

They stood up, picking the stones one by one, and ripped the mortuary atmosphere with cryptic gestures. From the now common amethyst mist appeared a well handcrafted necklace which could have perfectly found its place in Alfheim's most valuable treasure. As an ex-Asgard's diplomate, and based on all the wonders and oddities his eyes have seen during his countless trips through the Nine Realms, Loki could easily tell that it wasn't some random gold chains. The seiðr he was feeling flowing from the finely sculpted tree, probably a stylistic representation of the Yggdrasil, masterpiece of the strange jewel, came to confirm his first impression.

With another delicate wrist's arabesque, the runes' support began to levitate around the mysterious entanglement of precious metal threads, which seemed as delicate and thin as hair. The antic symbols glowed brighter, a snap of fingers (which gave him indescribable unpleasant tingling sensations in the back of his mind), and five orbs, the size of a pinkie's nail, got embedded into the platinum wreath.

"Five signs to close the cross." They repeated, reaching his corpse. "And so five wishes to help you while your powers will wait to regain their full potential once again…" Hlin passed the magic artefact around his neck, formalizing their bet… Sealing his fate. "During this period of one month, which will start as soon as you will land on Midgard, you will have the possibility to summon my own energy five times: just break one of the stones and I will come for you."

_Is it really professional_

_to leave you job like that?_

"I _am_ the guardian of _all_ the lost souls." Their expression was clearly showing offense. "And so it also concerns the ones in abeyance… You won't get rid of me so easily…" A fond smile outshined their hard features. "We may have had some difficult moments, but know that, for me, you always will be Loki…"

_Yeah, I got it…_

_Silvertongue, Skywalker, Liesmith,_

_God of Mischief, Fire and Lies…_

"You forgot "The Trickster"…" Softer. "_My Prince_."

Then, they placed a hand on his chest and he could feel a deep warmth rusting through his veins, colouring his skin from grey to pastel pink again, making his muscles beg for movements. His lungs slowly made his torso rise with a new breath. And he was… hearing something- no, it wasn't really something to hear… It was _resonating_. A heartbeat.

"You may feel a bit nauseous for the next few days, but such a big change –also called resurrection-, and giving my current decaffeinated state, I hope you would pardon me…" They smirked.

Suddenly, a light came from beneath his foot. The dark matter retreated, letting the smooth brightness to wrap his shape.

"Well, good luck in this bet, my Prince!" A childish sparkle passed behind the black eyes. "I can't wait to get my future and new personal coffee barista back…"

_Tss, in your dreams…_

_By the way, Hlin, what are your "expectations"_

_to become "as neat as Thor's swaddling clothes"?_

"Oh yes, I almost forgot that part! In fact, that's very simple…" One step backwards, a purr in their throat. "Bring me back something that you've always wanted to possess, but never had, and that you can only get on your own…"

_W-What? A riddle?_

_Hlin, please, be serious and more pre-!_

"Remember, my Prince…"

Without warning, a flash eclipsed the large grin worn by the indiscernible deity, blocking them from his view. He was feeling air tickling his sleepy skin. However, his ears were still able to distinguish their voice, full of cheekiness.

"No spice, no fun!"

A slight push against his chest. He fell.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Well, I hope he will land without too much trouble! I've to confess that I'm still not enough used to these "tel-Hel-portations"… Haha!"

Hlin finally left the strange dimensional crack behind, which was beginning to be wolfed by the blackish essence anyway. They were absent-mindedly fidgeting the small leather bag with its precious content, when they stop dead on their track. Numbers silently passed on their pale lips, gaze unfocused under furrowed white brows…

"Twenty-one… Twenty-two… Twenty-three… And…" A curse, more than unsuitable for such a godlike figure, escaped. "Tss, as if I have not enough work already? Where by Norns' holy name could be this damned r-?!" Quick anxious glances around them. "Hum, sorry-sorry, my dear Goddesses, I wasn't implying any-… Well, nevermind. Guess that I will have to create another one soon or later…"

If they haven't been so focused on their current loss, maybe the deity would have noticed the subtle quivering from the portal to which they were standing with their back to… And perhaps that it wasn't just Ehwaz, the duality and alternating forces' mark, which was the only one missing from their Realm. But for now, the dead and the livings' worlds were once again separated one from each other. Until the next month…

They try to shave those minor problems away, thinking about all the souls, impatiently waiting on the other side of this cell, and loudly sighed when they realised that their biggest-sized cup, yet full only ten minutes ago, was now as dry as their sleep-deprived eyes.

They stepped forwards nonetheless, trying to ignore the slow headache this last confrontation had given them. At the end, reaching a handle, coming from nowhere, they still gave a sidelong look to the last place their suzerain have been before falling from one of the countless Yggdrasil's branches. A knowing smile found its place on their ageless face.

My Prince…

Don't seek for redemption.

Seek for your true Self.

Seek for Loki.

~ 21 ~


	2. Chapter 1 - The Prince is in Town

Chapter One

The Prince is in Town

He was falling. Or at least, that was what his still numb senses were trying to tell him. In his too long existence, he had many occasions to experiment the subtle shades of the concept "fall".

He had been young back then, the Asgard's burning sun on his pale skin, eyes glued to the blond haired boy smiling at him on one of the highest branch. He had wanted to join him, to watch the same horizon. A misstep, an alarming cry from above as the bark had loudly cracked… The clear sky drawing away faster and faster.

He had fallen that day, and it had been blue.

He had been at the Court, the Council dismissed early and he had so retreated to his own quarters. Far away, in the countryside, the low and menacing rumble of thunder had echoed to his murderous thoughts. All those self-proclaimed strategists, those noble rats whose knowledges of war could be resumed to brutal strength and blind assaults. And Odin, the AllFather, not daring to consider his suggestions of alliances and peace agreements… When his own son, _his brother_, was currently risking his life for some stupide mines and rivers he could have had obtained with minor gifts and sweet words! "Let the Norns make them rot in Helheim!" he swore before crashing on his mattress.

He had fallen that day, and it had been grey.

He had been standing on the Bifröst, only to catch the spear of the once-called Father. Excuses, lies, past promises. Begging for forgiveness, only to receive cold statements. He had loosened his grip. Same sky, same scream from above…

But he had fallen that day, and it had been pure black…

Well, if he correctly recollected those scraps of his past, there also had been that time in New-York, when this mortal archer had managed to surprise him with his rustic midgardian technology, making him fly against a tower nearby.

_Old-school, but still … Efficient._

His consciousness stated, trying to sound sporting. And, oh, how could have he forgotten this so enriching experience he had with that… Ridiculous mockery of a sorcerer! Thirty minutes, twenty-three seconds and six tenths! How did he call himself already? Tss, that was _strange_, he normally never forgot a name… Especially concerning the ones he was so craved to drive his dagger deeply into their throat: Hlin's pact could wait until he finishes to sort out some personal affairs, couldn't it?

_~ You have sworn to become a good person ~_

He heard from the back of his mind.

"_I've sworn to become a better person…"_

He countered with a smirk.

"_And that's a big difference._

_Plus, Hlin has not been precise about her expectations."_

For now he was free…

For now he was falling, feeling more energy, more life, flowing through his body as the time passed.

He was falling today, and it was with a hopeful white.

It was dark, and, during a brief instant, he thought that nothing had happened, that Hlin had fooled him in a fair payment for all of his past misdeeds against them. It would have been of good faith.

However, few facts made Loki suggest that he really was back among the livings. First came the pain… Norns, how was it even possible to simultaneously feel each and every fibres of his body? His chest was pulsing fire into his veins, his joints had to have been morphed into sharp-edged stones, and his head wouldn't have been in a better state than his current one if he would have been forced to listen to Thor singing one of his "battle chants" for ten hours straight… His life wasn't threatened nonetheless, but no need to precise that he had imagined his return to be a bit more… Triumphal? Glorious? At least not so pedestrian?

And that's what guides us to the second point: it smelled. It smelled, it was damp and it was suffocating.

"Hlin, my dear Hlin…" He angrily muttered, not faily sure if he should be happy to finally let some air enter his lungs. "I know you aren't really fond of me right now, but in the name of the AllMother's love, please don't tell me that you sent me into-!"

He didn't have the time to finish his pray that his tiny and filthy space was abruptly turned upside-down. He nor didn't get the chance to prevent his left side from a violent encounter with the streets' hard bitumen.

"What in the- ?!"

"Oy-oy, what do we have here?" He heard while trying to regain his composure. "Hey, _sleeping dirty beauty_, don't you know that's not very charming to take a nap in the trash?"

In front of him were standing two men, middle-aged if he referred himself to Midgardians' standards, one wearing a dirty-grey woolly hat, hiding his long and greasy once blond hair, the other, almost reaching his height, bearing a large gash across his sinister face.

"Yeah… In our trash." The tall mortal added in what should have been perceived as a menacing tone.

"Then should I assume that I'm talking to real _litter's regents_?" But, unfortunately, the Trickster wasn't in mood for threats.

"What did you dare to call us?!" The blond giant roared. "You better watch you f-!"

"Come on, Mac, don't be upset with the lady." His colleague responded. "I'm sure that we can find an… agreement."

"I don't deal with mortals, even more if they are vulgar peasants." He spat, while dusting his clothes.

At the end, while tossing him back to Midgard in a trash skip, Hlin have had the decency to resurrect him with more than a towel around his waist. Even if grey pants with a shirt of the same insipid colour, now all sporting diverse muds and cuts, memories of his landing place, weren't what he would have considered as a royal outfit. And… Norns, was he really barefoot on this disgusting ground?

"What a bad humour, pretty girl…"

"What an assh-!"

"Mac, buddy-pal, calm down, it's okay : let your good ol' Josh talk to the Lady." What seemed to be the cleverest, or at least the most tempered, suggested. He then turned a pair of eyes full of fake sweetness, of barely hidden violence, of…" If Ma'am can't pay us back a meal…" Lust? "We may find an alternate way to let both of us… Satisfied."

Disgusting… He didn't have the time for those off-beats and, on top of that, he would surely not let such an affront remaining unpunished. He had played the role of Odin's fool for too long, had been considered like a useful but replaceable tool by too many persons: even now this comedy he was engaged in had no other purpose than to entertain Fate's servant. His long fingers traced the mark of his golden collar under the shirt's rough fabric. So beginning his new and umpteenth battle for freedom, for control over his own existence with this?! Unacceptable… Unbearable.

Every true liberty comes with revolution, every revolution lead to fight sooner or later, and every fight start in blood…

_Then, let's start with this part, shall we?_

"Well, if that is the case, I hope your Majesties will excuse me, but I've got more important problems to deal with, so…" A maniac grin enlightened his face with immaculate tooth, as he raised one palm towards the ones who have dared to cross his path. "Farewell to you... Pathetic creatures."

And with those words, followed by a bright green flash, the two unfortunate homeless men… Remained perfectly unharmed on the sidewalk of this dark alley, puzzled expressions behind dirt and sweat. Everything seemed to have stopped for a minute, all the protagonists stuck in their comical or theatrical poses.

I-It should have worked… And why did he have this impression of déjà-vu? He didn't feel fatigue or anything, he even felt better in comparison to his recent "death-state". So why wasn't he able to summon his seiðr and…

"_And so five wishes to help you while your powers will wait to regain their full potential once again…"_

"Well… Shit." as he once have heard a mortal say. Being deprived of his magic, for a born sorcerer, it was like cutting his own tongue to an experimented cook: a vast land of sensation lost in an instant. For his defence he only did it one time!

However, while he was still slightly flickering his hand, as if it would bring any sparkle of his past power back, he caught movements in his peripheral vision. Apparently, his two opponents had finished to dissipate their last doubts of danger, and were showing a fresh and stronger thirst for "rightful payback".

He smiled. Hum, it was time for plan _B_... _B_ecause stabbing has always been his best option.

He didn't even have to think about it, because it was a part of him, of his history, of his nature.

_A defying stare:_

_analysing the danger's source._

He had been conceived while a rut, was born on a battlefield, had been sent to foreign estates to let Fire and Death rain upon them and their people. It wasn't violence to him: violence was something unrefined and ineffective on a long term.

_A quick glance to his surroundings:_

_finding a weapon, or at least,_

_anything to cut through skin and flesh._

Chaos, he was Chaos. Just like mischief, people, especially Asgardians, were afraid of Chaos. But Chaos shouldn't be reduced to a simple lack of order: it was, on the exact contrary, more like a balance between several different stable states, more or less beneficial, more or less lasting. A cycle to bring novelty.

_A flowing roll towards a crystal spark:_

_catching a shard of a bad wine bottle._

He was the one to expose others' faults by embodying them, emphasizing them. Thor had been arrogant; Loki had been contemptuous. Those midgardian friends of him had been blinded by their selfishness; he had given them light back with his own burning egocentricity. Asgard had fallen… But how many times had he tried to alert them by falling himself? Deeper, always deeper…

_A gracile dodge of an impulsive punch:_

_thrusting the sharp glass into the first one's throat._

All of his actions were meticulously planned, to success or to secure. To shine under victory's rays or to warn his successors against the darkness which have finally managed to take over him. "_The sun will shine on us again, brother…_": next time you see that purple bastard, aim for the head, you moron! But don't take too much hope, Trickster, since when have your advices been listened?

_A scream of terror behind him:_

_never sparing any potential witnesses._

Never was he more alive than on a plain battlefield. Believe him or not, but during those few little instants, there were no more plots, no more disguises, no more hidden messages… And, among blood and roars, among Chaos, he was allowed to put down his past and titles. He was allowed to be free, to wonder about a new start as soon as their last enemy would give up the ghost.

_A short run before the pavement's shock:_

_taking time to watch this desire to survive struggling _

_behind those soon glazed eyes._

But each time he had raised his eyes to the stormy sky, his opponents' life's remainders dripping from his hands, clotting on his armour, the wind had murmured all his names back to his ear: Loki, God of Mischief, God of Fire and Chaos, Liesmith, Skywalker, Silvertongue, and so on… A fraternal but harsh hand on his shoulder had obliged him to stay a little longer. Again and again, the same cycle, the same Chaos.

_A less mad smile, an unfinished prayer:_

_cutting the jugular in one straight stroke._

He didn't remember how long he had remained here, his body overshadowing the still warm one of the once so called "Josh". Those mortals and their ridiculous names… Blood was pouring from the large gash, slowly forming a dark pool around them.

He finally stood up, closed his eyes. The wind was only carrying the rumble of those midgardian vessels with wheels and the distant crowd's constant hubbub. Nothing else. He then dared to open them towards the sky: it was blue, filled with some errant clouds. The air was fresh, almost cold. Winter was promising to be tough this year. No grey storm to fear.

So he smile to himself, and, avoiding the dark puddles mottling the surroundings, took some steps towards the bright alley's entry. Perhaps it would work this time.

Today would be the first day to find how to complete his deal with Fate….

Or how to break it.

But, oh dear Loki, you shouldn't be so self-confident about that…

After all…

You only have **30 days** left.

Before reaching and melting into the walkers' noisy flow, an odd and unpleasant sensation took him. He was retreating to a street corner which was out of the common view, wondering about the possible effects a resurrection would have, when his innards released a displeased but distinctive growl. A blank statement suddenly crossed his mind:

_I am… hungry?_

Most of the time, gods and deities were eating for pleasure, in order to officially set down alliances or to celebrate some big events. Their natural constitution had let them resistant and unaffected by such trivial obligations mortals are submitted to, like hunger, thirst, sleep, and so on, and so forth… In fact, they were even so occasionally obliged to respect those "necessities", especially in case of illness, wounds or great exhaustion. The Odin's sleep was, for that, a perfect example. So it appeared that being temporally (or at least he hoped so) deprive from his seiðr could be counted into the godly weaknesses he was suffering from.

A swift draught of cold air brushed his skin as it dived into the narrow streets, causing him to shiver. He stopped himself to wrap his arms against his chest nonetheless: it would have been dishonourable of him. But the fact that he was now more vulnerable to the temperature and weather's contingences had not passed unnoticed.

It was in the terms of their deal, and if he had been aware of his state at his return on Midgard, then he would have surely tried to bargain about his conditions. However, it was a bit too late now, and he won't try to summon Hlin, because it was clear that it would be a loss to use one of his five wishes for something that would come back to him in a matter of days. Surely. Hopefully. He will wait, and think about his new moves in order to complete his "task"… And so close the deal. His stomach complained to his thoughts.

_Well, it doesn't solve the current situation…_

_I still need to find a shelter for some time and so take care of-_

Another angry rumble, more insistent. His nostrils were beginning to dilate, capturing all the street's smells. A bit further in the alley, a metal door suddenly slammed open, letting a frail profile, a young human wearing a strange headgear throwing a black bag into one of the dirty metallic boxes the Midgardians used for their trash. It was quick and almost savage, but as soon as the door was closed again, he couldn't avoid his sense of smell to notice the tempting scent. Cautiously taking some steps towards the bin, eyeing for the man to return at any time and so bring or dispensable attention on his tired (and bloody handed) persona, he threw a curious glance to its content. How big was his surprise when he discovered several red and white boxes, quite damaged but still whole, and, on top of that, all of them still containing those dishes some mortals seemed to crave for and that he had already seen during his few trips to Midgard. Especially in a certain Stark's tower…

Back in time, he had found this poor white bread's slices, filled with an almost burned piece of meat and slimy tasteless yellow squares anything but appetizing. Norns, he wasn't even sure if this thing was edible, or at least not toxic. Considering the quantity come humans were able to ingest, it shouldn't be. But once again, mortals were weird…

And more than that, if those… things could really be called "food", then… Why so many were thrown in the dirt like that when they would be more intelligently used? For example, by being given to the ones who would truly need them. Even on Asgard, the feasts' remainders, when they were organized, were always given to the humblest. Like…

_Like the two you just murdered…_

He turned back, considering the heavy duster where he has hidden his assailants' corpses. They will be found, sooner or later, and, even if vendettas had to be common around these dark corners, it was dangerous to assume there wouldn't be any reprisals or investigations at all. Gangsters, lost souls and mafias were the same, wherever you would go through the Nine Realms, but their deadly breaks were nothing more than you could expect from this kind of violent and loyally brain-washed creatures: blood bathes. So "quick and clean death" should not been something which would remain unnoticed. However, with a bit of luck, it would shortly be considered as an unsolved case, and underground's rats will reject the fault on each other's clan rather than suspecting a fallen god they had not even the chance to catch a glance of. Still, it was safer to leave this area as soon as possible and find a roof to put above his head…

Not without a disgusted face, he took the less spoiled cardboard box out, inspecting his content with a critical but still famish eye (oh, how low he had fallen to salivate for those unqualifiable preparations!), and began to discreetly walk away.

But, as he was reaching his previous hiding spot, a metallic crash caught his attention. Without lasting any precious seconds, which could cost any experimented warrior his life (and Norns knew that he had already paid enough to get this one back), he swiftly spired and threw his improvised dagger towards the source of the sound. The glass debris flied across the street to come blowing itself into pieces against the nearest wall. The move had been fast, surprising, and it had been all it takes to make the frail shadow he had felt to fall against the floor, shaky hands up to protect their face from the countless sharp pieces. Some would have said that it has been a miss shot, but they should better learn that the Trickster never misses his target: his goal wasn't to kill the mysterious, even if obvious, follower… Or at least not until he had learned his identity and possible motives.

As soon as the impact rang against the grey high buildings' walls, Loki rushed forward. A caught breath and he was already on top of his prey… Which revealed itself to be-

"P-Please, Sir, I b-beg you! I-I d-didn't want to threa-threaten you on a-anything! Please d-don't hurt me!"

…A child? Dirty, moaning and awfully skinny, but definitely a child, who was more or less reaching his eleventh spring if he guessed right. Hum, maybe not even his tenth after a second look on his thin wrists. So thin wrists. Too thin wrists.

The god let his grip to loosen a bit, his heart still beating fast due to the adrenaline, but clutching at the sight. A child. Norns knew he had standards, even as the incarnation of Mischief, of Chaos, of Fire (he was beginning to know the tune by heart) however… A child? Names bubbled in his memory, pictures from a past line of his life's myth.

"Sl…!" His silver tongue froze on the last part. It wasn't as if the young mortal would have noticed it, as lost in his pleas as he was. "Slow down, child! I'm not getting a word your mouth his trying to spit right now!"

The voice was strong but not brutal. The red-mop decreasingly stopped to escape from the green eyed man who, as for him, was containing the younger's last nervous hiccups by clenching his shoulders straight.

Loki loved to think that he had a smile for every situation he may encounter, so, of course he had a specific one for the "meeting-a-strange-midgardian-child-in-the-back-of-a-desert-alley-after-coming-back-to-life-and-nearly-got-murdered" case. Even if it was not a classic.

"Here: breathe with me, young one. In…" He inspired deeply, searching to help the little boy to steady his own breath. "And out…" He expired. The other followed his example which managed to crook him a slight comforting smile. "That's it! Once again, would you? In… And out… In… Out… In…"

He repeated the same exercise again and again, until the primal fear seemed to have left the child's eyes enough, which would enable him to have a nicer chat.

It wasn't the first time Loki had to deal with panic attacks. Warriors could still be grown men and women, they remained breakable souls when it came to the battlefield. He had witnessed so many times how the horrors of war could change fighters, victims, the short-tempered and the wiser, masters, slaves, even animals and creatures… But the worst cases were always children.

That was something that wouldn't help him in his quest to respond to Hlin's deal, since protecting, or at least avoiding harming them, as already been one of the very few codes he was taking to heart. Personal history, personal affair. But if he didn't take it, he couldn't afford to lose it nonetheless.

"There, you're doing great little one…" He tried to chase away the last bit of falseness he usually put into each grin of his. "Listen: I don't want to harm you. Believe me."

_Well, the Liesmith imploring a child to trust him? Hilarious._

"Rea-really…?" The kid asked him with a voice in which you could almost feel an inch of hope. Norns, how could a so naïve ball like this one has not already been killed, it was a true miracle. World could be so cruel sometimes…

"Yeah, I…" No promises, remember? Never. "… told you so: don't make me repeat myself."

"Huh, o-okay!" He felt the muscled tensed again under his palms. "I'm so-sorry, Sir!"

"There's no need to be sorry little one: I should be the one to… apologize for startling you like that. I… just wanted to ask you some questions, hum? Do you think you can do that for me?"

"S-Sure? I mean, it's just some questions, right?

"It is."

"No… No harm?"

"No harm." He felt the tension slowly leaving the boy, his smile warmed up a bit. "Now tell me… What were you doing in those trashes, crippling behind my back?"

"I was just searching for food, Sir!" Shame dusted his young cheeks at the declaration.

"Food…?" It was now genuine concern that was flickering around his mind. The picture of all the dirty boxes with their eatable but ill-making meat flashed in front of his eyes. However, it seemed that the word has rolled too long on his tongue regarding to the kid's previous fear.

"I s-swear it, Sir! I just c-came here to see if old J-Jacky's rats had already thrown the r-rests of the day! On m-my life, I swear I- !"

The boy was cut when he saw the strange dark haired man presenting to him one of the precious boxes he was so desperate for. His little hands began to clench and open repetitively, his fingers unable to decide which destination would be better to follow, while his almost salivating mouth and hungry eyes remained fixed on the Trickster.

"Is it what you were searching for, back then? Can you swear that you weren't spying on me or having bad intentions?" Loki raised his palm to silence the child who was on the verge to babble an answer. "And don't even think to try to lie to me, young one: be sure I will know it." He still had one or two tittles to hold after all.

"I-" He swallowed loudly. "Yeah, Sir. I-it's the truth! I… just wanted to find something to put under my tooth. The snacks thrown in the dump here aren't the best of the city, but it's the safer for the people like… me. Bigger restaurants' back doors are already taken by the older, the stronger ones. When I saw you taking a full box, I was - hum - not happy, 'cause I had hoped to be the first to arrive." His spine straightened. "But I-I'm not a fool! I know I couldn't beat you whenever I would have wanted to steal it from you! I can't even stand a chance against lil' Ted, then against an adult like you…"

_Well, young but smart… And realistic._

"So I waited you to turn back to reach the dump, but…"

"You were not the best most discrete…"

"Yeah, I-I think." The boy almost chuckled.

Suddenly, without any warnings and while the boy's eyes had always avoided his until then, Loki found himself starring at two chocolate irises becoming shiny with new tears at their corners. A plaintive voice broke from the tight young chest.

"P-Please, Sir, I-I know that it's not my r-right to ask it, but…" An unknown courage pierced through his next words. "Could you at least let me take only one of them?! Just one! That's all my sis' and I would need, so please, could you- ?!"

"You have a sister?" The statement gave him a bitterer after-taste than he would have admitted. Nostalgia perhaps. He looked at the boy a little longer who was now a bit unsure the idea to tell more about his reasons to dive into the trash. "You know, I have a brother too… And a sister, even if I didn't have much time to… fraternize with her." He may have found a common ground. He would have just preferred it to be a stupide hobby like gardening, knitting or even stabbing. "So it means that I'm surely able to understand your problems, am I wrong? And then, we may find a way to…" He smiled. "… help each other? What do you think of this, little one?"

"H-Help? How?"

"Oh, but that's very simple! You just have to show me the place where mor- you commonly use and tell me everything about it, and, in exchange…" He gently deposed the card box in his little hands, repressing the cry of disapproval from his stomach. "I give you the permission to take all the… food you want for you and your sibling. So what do you think of it?"

To be honest, he was actually starving at the moment, but he knew that he should still be able to stand for a few hours. More than that, getting some informations about his new environment was vital, far more important than those midgardian apparently edible things that he would undoubtedly find in another dirty metallic container. The need would arise, but he could also use some compa Plus, if his long life as a pariah had taught him something, it was that the cities' little eyes and ears, like this child, were the best sources when it came to know all the hidden spots, bad secrets and clever tips to survive in those Hell's shallows. Energetic and curious children were clearly less irritating than grumpy and doubtful adults.

"Hum, y-you… You just want me to show you the area?" The boy took a look inside his gift, eyes round like saucers. "That's all?"

"Exactly!" Bared teeth for a plain smile. "I would love to learn a bit more about this place I'm foreign to, and since I don't know to whom I can address myself, I thought that maybe you could… But of course –"He playfully gave the impression to take the box away. "– if you refuse I can still ask someone el-…"

"That's settled!" The red-haired child chirped keeping his treasure close to his chest. "I will be your guide, Sir! You'll see: I'm the best of the city for showing places nobody have heard of!" He exclaimed before running towards the main street.

"Oh, I highly count on that, young one…" The god muttered to himself, dusting his clothes again and following the now bouncing kid. "And you can stop calling me "Sir", it's, hum…" Awfully ancient. "Odd… My name is Lo-…" Don't say it, you absolute idiot! "-rence. My name is Laurence."

"Well, huh, as you wish M'ster Laurence!" There apparently was still some things to sort out about the "mister-stuff", but at least the name he chose seemed to be enough credible to be a Midgardian's one "Mine's Mat' if you want!"

"Dully noted, young Matthew." Mortals and their tendency to cut their own names…

The said Matthew raised an interrogative eyebrow at his full name, as he was not accustomed to such manners. However, it didn't bother him more than necessary, and, when the strange but quite kind mister Laurence finally met him at the bright avenue entrance, the boy genuinely reached for his hand. Loki, as for him, was a bit surprised by the gesture at first, but then, decided to wash his doubts over. It would be easier to not lose him in the crowd anyway. He let his fingers entangled themselves with the tiny ones. And, as they walked in the light together, he heard the amused and frail voice at his sides:

"So, M'ster Laurence, have you ever heard 'bout New York City before?"

Visiting the city you have tried to invade years ago, even if it led to a big disaster and while being partially controlled by, well, you-know-who, was a very strange experience. When he was standing, tall and magnificent on one of its highest skyscrapers, the streets were nothing more than ridiculously thin lines, and the walkers, dots you could have erased from the map by a single turn of your wrist. Now, his own one, along with all of his body, was drawn against the tumultuous rush of blind and almost death, mortals, who seemed to remain unaffected by whatever would occur around them. The prodigious living stream should have been able to impress the former god by its strength, if it's not by its unbelievable lack of sense, but today, as his only leading light in this ocean of multi-coloured skins and synthetic fabrics appeared to be a midgardian child (vulnerable and easily nervous on top of all things), Loki had to fight hard against the knots forming in his chest.

Crowds and attention never bothered him if they were meaning praises, respect and cheers… Natural or not. But those silent scrums, those judgemental glances and too loud laughs, they were killing him. On the bright side: his miserable appearance and their quite fast steps seemed to be enough to disguise his real identity from eyes, which, although, were already mesmerized by small metallic devices ("phones" he remembered), if they weren't starring at what seemed to be the Void itself. And you still want him to consider mortals as his equals?

A little tug from his sleeve tore him from his depreciative thoughts. The young Midgardian, Matthew, raised one of his small palms to point at the awfully bright signs above their heads.

"And here, finally, we're in Time Square! The name comes from the previous headquarters of the news- y'a know "The New York Times"? -, but today, the place is mostly famous for its big shops!" The boy explained with an incredibly serious tone despite his childish vocabulary. "You can have anything you want here: food, clothes, digital stuff, tourists-baits, and so on!" The voice lost a part of its energy. "Well, only if you have the money to pay it, of course…"

"Money", it has been a regular theme in this improvised trip, the child using it as some sort of punctuation for each place they have visited this morning. All of them going with a dispensable amount of commentaries concerning Midgardians' boring way of life…

**.**

**.**

**.**

"_It's a beautiful park, don't you think Mister Laurence? That's just a shame you need a ticket to go see the animals, they are quite expensive… Anyway, do you like animals, Mister Laurence?"_

"_There! We are now in Hell's Kitchen area. I… don't really know what Hell looks like, but it's a good place to find restaurants nonetheless. Some are really good and well-known, others just average: depends on your wallet's content I guess… Hey, I was wondering, what's your favourite food, Mister Laurence? Do they have chocolate where you come from?"_

"_Oh, look there! It's an entrance to reach the subway: super useful if you have to go fast to a part of the city! Huh? Hum, no, I'm sorry Mister Laurence, but we can't take it now, 'cause I may have just enough for only one of us… Anyway! How do you travel in your homeland? Trains? Planes? What do your cars look like?"_

**.**

**.**

**.**

Back in his spring years, he would have surely cringe at every silly questions, but after a decade particularly full of unpredictable changes, his mind has learned how to behave for his own safety, here, how to preserve his fragile undercover.

**.**

**.**

**.**

_Yes, and I have a preference for snakes._

_I'm not sure of what you're talking about, child, but I don't really appreciate over-salty preparations._

_Well, horses are quite common where I was, hum, have been raised._

**.**

**.**

**.**

However, if those small talks were no more a problem for his silver tongue, his restless brain wasn't busy on admiring the tasteless mortals' sense of architecture. No, no, no, in this expedition in a more or less known territory, it was trying to catch all the informations and ideas which could help him to survive while finding a way to complete this damn deal.

And "money" would be, without doubts, his first target. After all, gold, jewels and precious artefacts had always been a source of power, and power, that was exactly what he was lacking of right now. Unfortunately, wherever his eyes were setting, he couldn't find any of those valuables in the Midgardians' hands. When they were passing in front of businesses' front windows he could read numbers, which he interpreted as the merchandises' prizes, however, he wasn't able to tell what you have to give in exchange to buy them. There only was this symbol that he surely never had seen among all the other runes he had learned and discovered during his centuries past as a sorcerer student. After a second thought, he shouldn't have spat on midgardian culture so much the first time he came, and now, he was regretting his overconfidence…

"Little Matthew, stop here for a moment."

"Hum? Is it something wrong, Mister Laurence? I know I've already shown you quieter quarters, but if they don't please you, we can always-"

"No, child, don't worry about that: I think I've already found one or two places corresponding to my "criterias", but…" I surely don't have the funds to afford them… or the ability to conquer them without risking my quest's completion. "What does that symbol mean?"

"What are you- Oh! That?! It's just a dollar!"

"_Doll-are_?" Was that some voodoo's arcana then?

"Yeah, that's our – hum – y'a know, way to buy stuff. Like Euros, Pesos, or- Dollars are – it's, well, coins and bills, or-"

"Are you trying to explain that it is the formal representation of your realm's currency?"

He didn't understand half of the boy's vain attempts of explanations, but he still managed to catch "coins", and, most importantly "way to"…

"Yeah, that's it! Currency: that's the word!" The child scratched his neck. "Although, I'm not sure of what you want to say by "realm", 'cause we're more like sta-"

"Where can I get some?"

"W-What?"

"Your "_do-larz_": where can I find them? Do you have any treasury's rooms? Any dimensional safe spaces? Any guarded warehouses or libraries?"

"Huh, w-we have… banks?" Matthew's growing confusion was now almost tangible.

"Wonderful!" Loki clasped his hands on the boy's frail shoulders, forcing his own malicious eyes to meet the lost ones. "Then lead me to one of them: and I won't suffer any detour this time!"

"N-no problem, Mi-Mister Laurence!" The other immediately answered, although still a bit frightened by this sudden interest, if it's not fascination, for something as common as a dollar. "You have several ATM from which you should be able to get out money, even if I don't know if there's one nea-" He briefly took a look around before a proud smile enlightened his features. "Hey there! Do you see the red device on the wall?"

"This?" His brows furrowed as he was focusing on the blue bold letters above the fitted luminous screen Matthew was pointing at. B-A-N… Bank of A-M… "Bank of America?" Midgardians and their originality…

Just as he finally managed to pronounce what was supposed to be one of the mortals' common ways to store their wealth, a quite plump lady appeared right in front of the automated machine. From the distance and considering that he was only allowed to watch her back, Loki wasn't able to tell what she did there, but he did see her elbows moving, indicating she was doing something with the previous device. Only half minute later, the fancy woman left her place to a smiling old man, and, this time, the god didn't miss her hands… full of greenish and brown papers, all wearing the famous mark. How such meaningless material could have found importance for mortals' eyes was a mystery (once again, Midgardians were weird), however, he had found what he was searching for. Well, in theory… Indeed, he knew the "where", was now missing the "how"?

Just as he was thinking about his next move, ignoring the curious glances he was receiving from his first and new ally Matthew, he felt pleasing and oddly familiar tingles running under his skin. Was it really what he was hopping for so dearly?

_It's… coming back!_

A mischievous grin graced his thin lips. Of course it wasn't even an hundredth of his past power, but he could sense tiny sparkles of seiðr floating in the air. They were vibrating, almost condensing only to dissipate themselves again. And they…

_They are attracted by something…_

_Something which is really near from here…_

_Something that is using a big amount of energy…_

His eyes suddenly seemed to get lost in an unreachable horizon, animated by quick movements, but each of them darting with a chirurgical precision. Reading through the universe's secret veil with so few strings to hold on wasn't a work for ordinary amateurs.

"Hum… Mister Laurence? Is everything alright?" The little boy's voice asked anxiously. "You know that you need a debit card to get money, don't you? Do you even have a bank ac-?"

"Perfectly fine. I'm… perfectly fine." His mind was racing like thousands horses during a royal hunt, chasing after any crumbs of seiðr left. Finally… "Now please keep your adorable mouth shut for a moment and follow me…"

"Hey! Wait, Mister, where are you- Oh shoot!" Surprise got caught in the small throat.

He may wasn't capable to stand up long for a miserable streets' fight, but reading pattern of energy, this, had always been a kid's play for him. During a brief instant, the sympathetic although a bit strange Mister Laurence was no more able to hear the anxious calls, his bare teeth clenched in an almost painful, but challenging, rictus, forehead moistened with the sweat of an invisible effort. It then grew wider, his smile, and, without a word, the tall man began to walk towards the bank's front wall. On his tiny legs, the young Matthew had to take two or three steps in order to keep the determined pace of his new employer.

When they finally reached one of the digital devices, Loki unceremoniously shoved away the person in front of him, clearing the space. He didn't catch the offended remarks, nor did he hear the honest apologies coming from the twelve year old boy.

He could feel it under his palm. The energy running behind this so thin glass. Running, running in all the directions through paths neatly traced… He had already encountered this kind of power. He knew this pattern, this strength and spontaneity, if it wasn't violence and haste.

_Thor?_

Well, it clearly couldn't have anything to do with his moron of a brother, but it definitely shared something with the god of-

_Thunder!_

That was it! It felt like millions of micro-storms which would have been condensed in fine lines of… Electricity, was it how mortal call it? A global name for such a complex power, but anyway: it won't change the fact that he was able to control it, or at least to lead it where he wanted to guide it. After all, he may have learned one or two magic tricks after centuries on his brother's side.

A twitch of wrist, elegant long fingers silently dancing on the screen but without even touching it, a sly smirk breaking the frown of effort and the luminous commands broke. Still watching him with worry, Matthew suddenly jumped at the strong and unusual mechanic roar coming from the ATM. When his child's eyes settled on the impressive bundles of bills and the almost offhand attitude the more than modest man he had met in the trash only one hour ago, he couldn't help his jaw to drop. However, Loki turned to him with a fresh smile, full of a new and refilled confidence. In himself, and maybe in future too. But for now…

"Tell me, little one…" He said in a mock of some bourgeoisie's manners, an almost forgotten playful grin on his lips. "What do you think about a real feast with true decent food?"

At the time the odd duo took a sit at the quietest table the café could offer, Loki had the time to test the limits of his regained powers. Besides the common energy reading abilities, it seemed that he was able to manipulate minor forms which are already present in his nearby environment. If he has managed to control electricity, he unfortunately failed to summon it on his own. His main hypothesis was that his inner source of seiðr was still unreachable, too weak after years of death-state, but the sensibility of extern magic he had learned to forge through centuries had remained. As some kind of confirmation, he had been able to charm a few mortals while they were on their road, leaving them quite chocked by harmless hallucinations. Spirits are a sort of energy, you know? Nerves too…

And his best work from now on was definitely when he managed to let them enter a shop to buy more fitting (and cleaner). Honestly, which seller would have let two pedestrians enter in his luxurious property to "acquire the finest pieces he could present to them"?! One of the so called underground's rat being a child with surely nothing more than two "_dau-larz_" to buy candies! Well, a small illusion here and there, and the posh audience would only tell you that, this early afternoon, they saw a fortunate and well-dressed old man, dark velvet in contrast to long white hair and goat beard, followed by a really impressed little boy (probably his grandson or maybe distant nephew?), all blond hair and blue state-of-the-art outfit, coming down to the town for shopping. Calling the say session "expensive" would have been an euphemism regarding the final bill the too happy employee and the big eyes the child have made, but the old man didn't even flinch, leaving the place with his purchases and a bright false smile. As soon as they found a discrete spot, the good grandpa and his innocent kid disappeared to let an ex-criminal alien god and his new found streets' ally replace them. Loki greatly appreciated the return of soft and delicate fabric on his so "used-to-be-a-prince" skin. It although took him several minutes to convince Matthew that, yes, the other clothes' set was indeed for him and his sister, and that, no, it wasn't unnecessary expenses so "go-change-because-we-still-have-duties-on-our-list!".

Now they looked unrecognizable. It had been, in fact, one of Loki's priorities after he and his young guide had settled the plan to get something to calm their hungry stomachs, and, if it could be possible, something sweet and tasty (he definitely has more in common with the little Midgardian than he thought). Indeed, if the Trickster has managed to fool a child, who may not have even been born two years after the… incident of his city, he was more than aware that it wouldn't be that easy with traumatized adults who were conscious and alert at the time. So, if he had to stay immobile and exposed, in a crowded public place, it was imperative to find some disguise (comfortable and fitting to his noble standards nonetheless). The last thing he needed was clearly to assist to his own military assault by the Avengers. Or what apparently remained of them…

"So, you're telling me that St- Iron Man… died?"

He couldn't believe the news. He has indeed witnessed all the pictures, street arts and messages along their trip through New York, but he had only thought about another ego-display from the billionaire. Norns, it could have been something he would have done too!

"When ? How?"….. _By who_?

"What? How could yo have not heard about it? It has been all other the news during six whole months –at the least- after the Last Battle!" Matthew chocked out on his strawberry smoothie. "Don't get mad at me, Mister Laurence, but sometimes I really have the impression that you live on another planet…"

_Well, child, I used to…_

_In a way…_

"Anyway, to answer your questions, Mister: yes, Tony Stark is dead - but please don't speak so loud" The kid demanded while shushing him quiet with his little hands. "This is still a difficult subject for everyone here, y'a know? After all, he was one –if it's not the most- loved of our symbols!"

"Was he for you?" Two chestnut eyes flashed to his. "Do you… hum, like him?"

"Well, I… can't say that I adore him like some of his fans do-"

"But?" Matthew shifted a bit before letting his shy voice answer.

"But he saved my Mom during the aliens' invasion, the one which took place in 2012?" He nodded. Oh dear child, you have no idea. "There were all those grey monsters the… _Kaitoris_ or something like that, which were controlled by a green magician with a big wand made of gold!"

For once, Loki didn't feel the need to correct his conversation partner about his choice of words to describe the versed mage he was.

"Well, my Mom told us, my sister and I, that without the Avengers, and especially Iron Man, she wouldn't have been able to survive the attack… That's him which has helped the people to escape the tower she was passing by before it collapsed entirely. She… She got gravely injured nonetheless, and lost her job because of that, but…" A half-smile crossed the dark face of the kid. "But she managed to find some little paid tasks she's able to do from our home, internet programming stuff and all, since she has a degree in-"

"And your father? Why didn't even ment-?

"It's because he's in coma." The voice didn't waver but his eyes were piercing through the god's skull. "He didn't have the same chance as Mom, which also got under attack, the first one to be targeted to be exact, and so the same one to which none of our now heroes managed to get in time to save the poor guys and ladies. They've died or… Well, like my dad. I was, what, one year old then? My sister, not even two months. I… I don't remember much, only false memories and adults' stories.

"Hum, I'm… sorry to hear that, young one. I…"

"Oh! Don't apologise like that, Mister Laurence!" The boy abruptly said, waving in an appeasing manner. "You're not responsible of what happened. Plus, almost all of us lost someone dear during this… battle. I know people who are the only survivors of their family, so it could sound strange, but I quite considered myself lucky. After all, I still have Mom, Dad and Kat', my lil' sis'! So yes, I have to work for two, even three some days, but that's okay, 'cause I'm strong! And if one day that mad magician came back, I want to be able to defend them, so I better start to learn how to cope with daily ordeals on my own! Am I right, Mister?!"

Loki swallowed hard, even if the sound seemed to not reach the child's ears. He was not proud of what happened back then: it hadn't been a war he had engaged for himself. He had lost. He wasn't even satisfied: this little "escapade" on Midgard had not been enough to satisfy his lust of control. Rule them all to keep your own pieces together. He wasn't feeling guilty either: he had fallen, never had he asked to be resurrected. The void was so close and also far in his memories. But, for a reason he wasn't able to explain, a knot formed in his entrails after hearing the story of this little piece of flesh and blood. This so undeveloped and primary being but with such a bright smile. Loki had long lost the meaning of "family", did it give him the right to tear it away from others nonetheless?

"Yes you are, child… Yes you are." He tried to turn his attention to his cold midgardian conception of infusion. Changing the topic. "Now eat your _mouth-in _before I do it for you!"

"Oh, yeah! Sorry, 'most forgot, haha!" The kid replied before shoving the pastry with a ridiculous amount of chocolate chunks directly in his mouth. "Hand wit's a _muffin_; M'ster Lawence, aw _muffin_!"

"As you wish, child." The god huffed, clearly not caring a slight bit about the name.

"I can't believe you don't have muffins where you're living… Man, it has to be an awful pla- Huh! No offense, Mister!"

"None taken, child."

"Thanks, and, anyway…" Matthew said why licking the remainders of chocolate on his fingers. "Where do you think you're going now, Mister Laurence?"

Loki took his time to finish his tea, let enough money to pay the bill on the table (he may have put some more for the child and his family, but please, don't even try to mention it), ruffled Mat's hair and direct himself towards the café's exit.

"It was a pleasure to know and work with you, little Matthew, but I have to leave now. I'm looking for our next encounter. May the Norns protect your path." He stepped out, disappearing into the crowd. "I have a new home to find."

The boy didn't even have the time to tell him goodbye… Nor to ask him what "the Norns" could be…

As he was walking in the streets, looking briefly from time to time to the piece of napkin his little guide tour used to draw a rough but still understandable map of the places they have visited, the god was feeling more and more at ease in the constant human flow. For some strange reason, the primary clothes ruffling against his own precious fabric were becoming a second skin under which he was able to hide; the cacophony of voices and horns, a voice behind he could silence his own. Even the odd, sometimes envious or curious glances he was getting… They were still a menace for a part of him, a cue he should always be aware of if his disguise ever got revealed. But they were also a proof that he was here, walking among them, a tangible reality. Alive.

His steps halted in front of the red bricks structure. A dark oak door, with golden hinges and door-knocker but ivy climbing around old woody windows. And with heavy cracks into the walls. A dusty floor barely visible behind the moth-eaten curtains and the twilight slowly falling upon the street. A perfect hidden place: an abandoned one.

_Well, I would have preferred something more comfortable, but at least,_

_I'm sure that no one would ever seek for me here:_

_it's clearly not my…_

"_official style"_

_._

A quick verification around in order to assure himself that no eyes was spying on him, even lost ginger-haired child: silent grey towers obscuring the sky at the road's end, some scattered little shops already closed for the night and other deserted places, which were in a far worse shape than the one he had set his heart on.

When they had passed across this street this morning, the god had been surprised to see that only a handful of mortals were walking with them, contrary to the army usually invading the other avenues. Asking his little guide about it, the answer he had gotten back made him wonder:

"_This area is a rest of the Invasion of our city." Matthew had said darkly, head down. "However, and contrary to many others, this one never managed to find someone to rebuild here. Always errors in the plans, bad weather, last minute hold-up, accidents on the construction sites. So, people began to spread rumours about the place, like it had been doomed by the dark magician's power. With that, only few civilians remain here, most of the time old people which were too attached to their houses and paid to repair them. The lack of clients and potential new inhabitants led this street to be left as a reminder of what happened, but a harsh and difficult place to live, being quite isolated in a so living place as New York…"_

Yes, a perfect hideout, darkened in the light, and, who knows, if the little Midgardian was right, maybe he would be able to recover more quickly in a space which had kept a stain of his past mischief.

Without a sound, he took one of the cutleries he had… temporally borrowed in the café and made the points sink in the scratched lock. Some skilled movements and silent prays later, he was closing the door behind him, letting the last of his small illusions fade away. He had kicked the cleverest systems crafted by the dwarves and passed the finest barriers erected by the elves: a mortal display like this one was nothing at all, absolutely no-

He was inspecting his surroundings when he suddenly tripped on his own feet and leaned heavily against the damp wall while a migraine harshly harassed his temples… So, okay, maybe he had overestimated his new found resources a bit.

_I need to… close my eyes._

_Just for a minute…_

_And tomorrow, I will-_

Exhaustion didn't give him the time to finish his thoughts. Before falling in a dreamless sleep, he caught a glimpse of light in the construction in front of his own from the corner of his tired eyes. But this, little trickster will have to wait until the dawn would rise. On your second day.

_~ To be continued…_

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	3. Chapter 2 - 12:00 - time for a break

Chapter 2

12:00 – time for a break

He woke up with the sun, or, more precisely, with a blinding ray finally hitting the worn-out rug he had ungracefully fallen upon last night. Loki grumbled, stretching his aching muscles which were vividly protesting against the coldness of the room. However, as small sparkles of seiðr emerged from their long slumber, the god couldn't mask his joy…. And relief. But at the same time, his whole body was… Strange. He didn't know how to describe this new feeling, but it was leaving him an impression of sickness and… Well, it wasn't important, he had more pressing things in matter.

After some minutes he took to analyse his surroundings and recollect his memories of the day before, he got up and began the inspection of his future… "residence"? He should have proceeded to this in the first place, rather than succumb to his most primitive instincts: who knows if this place wasn't some bandits' or unknown menace's hideout. If he had chosen this presumed abandoned place, it was due to all those rumours about its reputation, which meant that other more or less well-intentioned people could have had the same idea. What would have happened if those hypothetical and unofficial rulers of this hovel had found him on their floor, unconscious and so vulnerable in this mortal-like state?

A shiver ran down his spine as he finished checking the first floor: better not think too much about it. He had been imprudent, but, at the end, it seemed that the frightening (even if mostly fantasist) stories attached to this area have managed to keep away even the most determined or foolish.

_Well, would I dare to say that Fate_

_is on my side this time?_

He didn't allow himself to chuckle at his own dark humour, aware that he still had one or two rooms upstairs to secure, the golden pendant clinging to his neck slightly humming under the crumbled fabric of his shirt and jacket. It wasn't "physically" heavy chains, this damned collar wasn't even visible under his clothes and he wondered if Hlin didn't use some of their magic to place an enchantment on the item to turn it invisible to any other eyes than his. But, he could feel it, against his skin, behind his mind, always there, a so cold metal that it was almost burning, even for the Jotün he was and who was hiding under the Allfather's spell. He had to admit that the Fate's servant's work was admirable, and would he not have been its victim, he would have praised their creativity and talent. Now, as he was fighting the harsh sensations constricting his chest each time he was thinking too much about the so-called "Destiny's present", he preferred to leave those thoughts rest before breaking his nails and teeth against the enchanted metal.

The second floor revealed itself to be as quiet as the first one, only consisting in a corridor to which two rooms were adjacent. Back against the wall, ears open to the lowest sound, a hand clutching a dull knife he had kept from the café and the other on the doorknob he was silently turning, on watch at the slightest cue which would have given away the presence of someone behind the oak panel, he surged into the room at the final moment.

_Empty._

_No remainders of a camp_

_or even a squatting._

_Perfect…_

After a quick but expert verification of the different issues available, in case of he would ever be forced to escape the place in haste ("Old habits die hard" he remembered the Hawk-mortal declaring when he still was under h- the mind gem's control – especially if they had helped you to stay alive more than once he would add), he directed himself toward the final room to check. The previous one should have been used, back in the time, before his arrival on Midgard, as some kind of home office. His basic researches had discovered a quite impressive amount of books, scattered all over the dusty floorboard, wood remainders of what should had been old shelves among them, two little desks with intact, although a bit old, furniture on them. But more importantly, his eyes had been caught by several frames covering the walls, some others lying on the floor, crashed by time and abandon. For the ones still visible, they all seemed to contain…

_Are these drawings?_

_Hum, they are… not that bad, I guess._

_For mortals…_

Indeed, diverse flowers, plants, humans, places, objects and animals had been represented with great details, sometimes in a realistic fashion, others with personal artistic touches. The god checked the materials he had seen minutes ago: yes, that was it. So it appeared that the ex-owner of the house, that he has arbitrarily chosen to settle in, was versed into arts.

_Well, interesting…_

_But clearly not vital informations:_

_let's rather check the last room._

Repeating the same procedure, he broke out into what appeared to be a bedroom this time. Empty, again. They was a king-sized bed (perfectly fitted for him then), even if he was doubting of the mattress' current state, sheets which have known better days after years of dampness and lack of care, and two shelves in a better shape than the ones in the previous room. Maybe he would go search for some new furniture today, but nothing to fancy which could jeopardize the fact that this desert place was no more… so desert? If he was obliged to stay here for a whole month, he could at least make it agreeable, could not he? But the more he thought about it, and the more he was becoming aware of the risks he would endure if he had to use the strange Midgardian's wealth's system called "banks". Indeed, considering the after-effects he got each time he was using the poor remainders of his magic, and also the fact that, one day or another, people could get suspicious about the disappearance of those "dollars", he should maybe reconsider his former plans and better only resort to the money he temporally borrowed as a last resort. Well, too bad for his back and neck, but he would prefer to pay for food and sanitary products rather than dispensable comfort, especially since… A now too familiar growl came from his stomach.

_Here we go again…_

_How could have mortals become accustomed to this?!_

_This is really… Annoying…_

He was finalizing his check-up, already silently planning his itinerary to reach the area he had explored with the little Matthew and where he was sure to find some edible stuff, when his eyes settled on new frames hanging on the blistered walls. They were also supporting drawings and paintings, different from the other ones, but one in particular was… What was represented there, it was…

_M….?_

There, a woman, with long hair whose countless curls were gracefully traced in charcoal, her bosom partially hidden with delicate drapery, and her dark painted eyes smiling with her thin grey lips to… A bundle of coarse fabrics from which you could notice a little arm, hand clutching to a small cuddly toy, and a round face, anthracite irises and black pencil hair. A sentiment of domestic happiness was emanating from the rough, but how so captivating, sketch.

Without considering his actions, the god approached a curious hand to the frame. However, as he was trying to take it off the wall to have a better watch, one of his feet hit some resistance below. Lowering his gaze, Loki finally caught the sight of broken wood pieces and washed-out blue lace. Considering how the remainders were laid out, and… His fingers brushed against a once soft, now kind of rugged fabric. He cleared out the debris, revealing a little mouse stuffed toy, not taller than his palm and badly damaged. But still, no doubt was allowed… It was the same one as on the picture. And so it meant that those bits and pieces were…

_A crib._

The sudden realisation hit the god. This place, he had formally considered as the retirement of some lonely artist were, in fact, the house where a family once lived. A family which had been forced to abandon the roof and walls which had protected them for maybe years, in order to save their lives from the awful creatures the sky had spat upon their heads. To save their lives from the invasion which took place about a decade ago. To save their lives from…

_Me…_

It wasn't the fact that these mortals probably died during this battle which took the Trickster by surprise: he had killed nearly 80 people in two days back then, and far more across his long military life. Just like young Matthew's, another family had been shattered by his own power's lust, like dozen of others. No, that was exactly this which enabled those damned charcoal eyes to pierce through his defences… _Another_…__Another… How many others were there, out here? How many times will he be forced to put a face on stupide numbers? A name on forgettable collateral casualties? Why couldn't they just stay as they were meant to be: freaking statistics?! He had been manipulated too! He had suffered too! SO WHY SHOULD HE HAVE TO CARE!? A thought's crumb from the day before came back to him:

~ _You had long lost the meaning of "family",_

_but does it give you the right to tear it away from others nonetheless? ~_

The god pondered those words in the silence of the room, silently eyeing the mother made of charcoal as she would answer his deepest interrogations. When he finally decided to push them aside, again, failing to find an answer which would both content him and the sombre figures hanged on the wall, Loki retracted to the first floor where he would plan his new expedition in the city. When he discretely left the house, taking care that no one would notice his comings and goings around his hideout, the sun was nearly at his zenith. And, carefully packed in an inner pocket of his newly acquired jacket, a green mouse and a sheet of paper…

Back again among the deafening crowd, among the too high towers darkening the sky and the streets' lingering odours which take your gut… Loki was almost thankful to be a bit hungry at the time, not certain that he would have been able to handle the new combination of his full stomach and the indefinable scent which seemed to directly emanated from the bitumen.

Even if the despicable sensation was still clinging to his entrails, he took his time to extend his mental map of the quarter, further than he and his little midgardian guide have previously explored, taking care to note all the places which could become handful one day or another. Who knows if one of them couldn't offer him greater or new services than the ones he had already visited? More than that, his past experiences had taught him to stay as unpredictable as possible: he better should use different places rather than staying stick to an easily tracked path.

And as he surprised himself to become more and more accustomed to his mortal body and its necessities, he also found his god's standards to be quite surprised by the Midgardians' creativity. Of course, he didn't stop after the thrice or fifth shop selling what little Matthew called "tourists-baits" (even if he wasn't really sure of what a "tourist" can be), but on his way, he couldn't help himself but to be attracted by several arts galleries, restaurants, museums, parks and statues, spread at almost each corner.

_After millenaries of evolution, it seems that they have finally_

_managed to understand the importance of design and refinement._

"_About time" like they say…_

However, his late morning's trip made him also wondered about his choice of clothes. He may had had the urge to find something as princely as his old asgardian armour, to find good leather and silk to make him forget about his now quite miserable condition, that he forgot that a little detail… But what a detail!

_Mortals are peasants._

Even if his current outfit was more comfortable and decent than his first homeless man's costume, he had to admit that it also drew many regards from the others. Too many… He should have noticed that, contrary to Asgardians, mortals didn't usually bother themselves with over-decorated robes and heavy official tunics. So, seeing a tall man like him, walking straight from point A to point B, throwing curious glances (if it's not concerned or disgusted, with an after taste of superiority) all around, and, above all, in a Armani's complete outfit… From which he was beginnig to get… Was that sweat?! Really? Tss, mortals were so annoying… A quick shopping-session in the nearest cheap store and he was now like any other Midgardian: _Tea-shirt_ and _Gins_ (even if he wasn't getting the reference to a mystical eastern entity in those so primary blue pantaloons).

When the digital numbers of what seemed to be a strange covered market reached 12 o'clock, Loki decided that it was maybe the time to find some food. However, staying too long in another public space didn't appeal to him too much, and he would rather prefer to continue his silent mapping. Plus, being in constant movement made him a part of the living streets' flow, and so more difficult to catch. During his exploration time, he had witnessed many mortals eating while walking or driving. Sure, those strange dishes, even if some looked like the awful preparations he had found in the trash, were definitely pretty handy when it came to do several things at once.

And, oh convenient, one of them was presented in front of the place he was standing in front of minutes ago, along with the mention "Friday's promotion – two for one : $6.89". Well, he didn't understand for what Friday could have a special signification for mortals to the point they create opportunities like this, but he wouldn't complain. Entering the place he was standing, the god was firstly hit by a cold wave of air.

Ruminating about finding a place where he wouldn't have to suffer from a temperature which was making him remember of his "heritage" a bit too much, he finally caught the sight of what he was searching for. Here, on a display stand, was disposed a myriad of_ sand-witches_ as he heard two midgardian teenagers called them at his sides.

_Had those things really been prepared with_

_sorcerer's flesh and mud?_

Eyeing suspiciously the different plastic boxes, he reached for one and began to inspect its content. After four or five minutes occupied by his contemplation, drawing amused smile by some of the customers, he noticed the white label on the back side:

"**Chicken-salad sandwich, Use-by date: XX/XX/XXXX, Composition: ...**"

Even if he wasn't able to understand all the listed ingredients, just as "flavor enhancers" or "preservatives" (To preserve from what? From being eaten? Wasn't it the true purpose of food? From deterioration? If you don't want to eat, why would you want food to be prepared and waste in the first place?!), he found the product enough safe to be eaten. And if he ever gets sick after that, well, at least he would know that he should never take that preparation again. And maybe kill the manager of this hellish place for his murderous attempt on his own persona… Later. He then grabbed two of the plastic boxes, along with a bottle of water, and directed himself towards the entrance of the shop, where he had seen an employee taking the other customers' money. He was about to put his items on the tray when a husky and grumpy voice rose behind him:

"Hey, you: what do you think you're doing there? Are you blind? Haven't you seen the line?!"

"I beg your pardon?" Loki responded, cold, items still in hands. He turned around to see an old man, with what he assimilated to a kind of walking frame.

"The line: can't you see it?! I was here before you!"

"Hum, it didn't appear to me that you were waiting, old man, isn't it your fault if you didn't make your intentions clea-?"

He didn't have the time to finish his sentence that red creep on the other's face. He was about to open his toothless mouth to respond to that another "brainless-generation-embodiment", which would have caused the rest of the mortals to regroup around the scene (and it was definitely not something Loki was fond of right now), the god beginning to mutter some unintelligible word under his breath, trying to reach his opponent energy to send him away by a telepathic warning, although he knew it would cost him resources he definitely shouldn't waste like that, when a gentle hand came upon the god's right shoulder.

"Please, Danny, be kind with the young Mister, he also is one of my customers after all…" A delicate voice declared, revealing a messed-up grey beard and two dark eyes.

"Humpf – and what?!" The retiree grumbled. "It didn't allow him to be socially clueless, Alan, and I'm also one of your customers! A regular one on top of that!"

"And I would never thank you enough for being my 50% full-time investor, but look: it's obvious that our dear Mister here is a foreigner." The god's spine stiffened. How could have they guessed? And what was he truly meaning by "foreigner"?

"Yeaaaah, now that you're mentioning it, you may be right…" What? He too?! But how many people did manage to see through his disguise and see that he was-?!

"British-" Hum? "You know how they are, those Europeans, when they first come in our dear states… A bit lost and all…" The man squeezed Loki's shoulder. "But we can't put the charge on them like that, Danny, you know, all the time difference and that stuff: look at the dark rings of this dear Mister, they are clearly the proof of the lack of sleep, inherent to those awful low-cost flies!"

"Haha, to that we can't argue!" The old one replied, chuckling. He then passed by the two others before directing himself from the shop's exit. "You know what, Al', I will come back tomorrow to end my shopping, and you better give me a free coffee as compensation! And Mister Brit', take a good nap' or try to learn some manners!"

"Yeah-yeah, no problem Danny, take care of your old and fragile bones while coming home!" What appeared to be the owner of this business almost sang song.

"Understood, stingy bastard!" The god heard coming as a mock reply.

The door shut close, and everything seemed to come back to normal in the rather small room. Every other customer was living their life as if what happened was nothing but a common representation for them, and, from what Loki heard of the… affectionate callings which have been just shared, he couldn't help himself to think that, once again, mortals were a bit weird. However, it wasn't without making him remember some scenes he had also been a part of during his and Thor's youth, especially after exhausting campaigns, but always in some sordid taverns. Nothing to do with quite decent and amicable shops like this one. Talking about friendly…

"My, my, my…" The one called Alan murmured in his beard. "I'm deeply sorry for this mess, Sir, but please don't take any offense in my comrade's attitude, he's a bit… "grumpy" before his first morning coffee."

"I… None taken." Even if he thought that if there was one to teach some manners to the other, it was definitely him, but he was still too shaky to joke out loud… And… _Kauf-i_?

"Here, let me take your articles for you!" He said while tapping on a screen pretty similar to the ATM he had discovered the day before. "And you know what? I'll give you a discount in order to amend for this theatrical representation!"

"Hum, wh-what?" He was a bit disconcerted by this warming smile. "I assure you that there is no ne-"

"I insist, Sir! I still have a worker's honour after all, come on: it will be 7 dollars, Sir, how do you want to pay? Cash or credit?"

"With… Pap- Bills! Bills, is it good?" He uncertainly declared while pulling some brown papers from one of his pockets. His stomach made an unpleasant loop in his innards, making him swallow a sick sensation back.

"Cash it is, then!" The other one's smile strangely wavered, only for a blink of an eye. Concerned? "Here, let me give you a bag, and as for your change, there is ten and the rest, which make us t-"

"Pardon me, but… How did you call me?"

"Hum, I'm sorry, Sir, what do you mean by that?"

"Earlier, you called me… _Brit-hitch_, am I wrong?" The god expectantly scrutinized his interlocutor's face. Was it a code or something?

"British?" Another curious glance. Washed away. "Oh, yes I did, please forgive me if I ever insult your origins, Sir, but I was just trying to smooth the old Danny, and…" He shrugged. "I don't know, your features make me think about one of those other actors we sometimes see on television. Ha! What was his name again? Cu-? Cucumb-? Kumberatch?"

"Ah yes, Britsih, like the… Nationality?" Loki cautiously questioned, taking the plastic bag the other was handing to him.

One or two seconds of silence passed between the two, only filled with the profound gaze of Alan and Loki beginning to think that it may have not been the best thing to ask. Did he fail… Again?! He didn't think that trying to integrate himself to his forced hosted planet and culture would do anything but help him to gain the mortals' trust. The old bearded man finalized the transaction, and, while giving him some silver coins as a deep gaze, used the closeness to swiftly grasp the alien's forearm.

"Young man, tell me…" The raspy voice kindly lowered. "Are you feeling alright?"

"W-What?" He panicked. The strong touch was making memories emerge from darkest days.

"It is just that you seem… Lost here, and troubled. Do you need any… assistance of some sort? Do you have your phone with y-?"

"A _Faun_? Ah, a _phone_, well, no, I don't th-think so, but I… I… Everything is al-alright, I just want to buy some food!" Why does nobody want to leave him alone? Please don't! No attention. Please!

"Without any disrespect, Mister, you seem a bit out-of-breath. Are you ill? Do you want me to call som-"

"NO!"

He freed himself from the grip, but quickly shot alarmed looks all around, aware that his shout might have alerted the other customers. He had to flee from this place, but then, it would only attract attention on him. They could think he had stolen something! He was too weak to handle these situations, his seiðr was still too low from his previous efforts His senses were beginning to tear his consciousness apart. What should he do now? His head was aching, his breath speeding to asphyxia. Mortal body, it hurts. His vision, unfocused, but his eyes darting to each spots light they could catch during his maniac and vain attempts to control his shaking muscles. What was happening? Hlin?! Help me! Thor?! I've failed so many things! Make it stop! Where am I?!

Then it… crashed down.

_dangerrunfoolneverfailuredangerdon'tlookbackthanospromisedliesthesunagainidiotpatheticdangergoouttrustnoonedangerhiddenleaveyoufailedmonstertraitorenemiesdeathalwaysaigainandagaindangerrutfatedangermyfault_

_abandonneddangermyfaultdanger_

_myfault?MYFAULT_

_myfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfault_

_myfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfault_

_myfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfault_

_myfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyf-_

"Youn- Oh no! Hey! Look at me! Please look at me!"

_look?myfaultmyfaultmyfaultwhere?myfaultmyfaultmy-_

"Breathe, you're hyperventilating! Here, please, look at me son, and breathe slowly, okay?"

_Myfaultmyfaulthavetomyfaultbreathemyfaultmyfaultlookmyfaultbreathe_

_myfaultokay_

"Come on, stay with me, that's it! One breath at a time! Focus: in and out, my boy, in and out!"

_focusmyfaultfocusbreathemyfaultlookbreathefocusmyfaultmyfault_

_focus_

_myfaultinmyfaultoutmyfaultinmyfaultoutfocusinfocusoutfocusmyfaultmyf-_

"No, no, no, we won't have it here, will we? Come on, son, I know you can do it: focus!"

_FOCUS_

_inoutfocusinfocusoutinoutinoutinoutfocusinoutinout_

_IN. OUT. IN. OUT. IN…_

"And out… Yeah, that's it, that's it: you're doing great, my boy. Here, there, take a sit, would you, just for sec' and drink a- No, no! Don't try to stand up, calm down, you will only gain another bad trip from too great movements, please…"

The voice. The voice was good. The voice was calm. It remembered him of someone. Hum? Not the same one, too deep. But kind: the voice was kind. Safe, he was safe, wasn't he? Everything was fine. Safe. Nobody can hurt him while he was with-

"Son, please, can you talk to me? How are you feeling right now?"

Loki's memories surfaced from the now almost cleared fog of his state. It… It wasn't- No, it would have been impossible nonetheless. Of course it would, even for _her_.

"W-Where am-? Who-?" His voice painfully asked.

"You are in my shop, in New York City, and, more precisely, in the "backstage part" as I like to call it." Softer. "There is no one but us, young man, nobody will hurt you, everything is fine… How are you feeling?"

The god's gaze took some time to analyse his surroundings: he was in a small room, only attached to the one where he was "standing" minutes ago by a tiny corridor, from which life's noises can be heard. There was another door ("STOCK" he read), small windows and the purr of some air conditioner. As for his immediate location, he was still heavily breathing on a chair, next to a solid wooden table, the Midgardian named Alan in front of him with worried eyes on his pathetic posture. Leave. Now.

"N-Nauseous, I think, but d-don't worry…" He tried to compose himself. His stomach was grumbling again, but his palate was only copper and bile. He had to get rid of this too curious mortal and go out. "I have heart problems, it's a family thing, I guess, so nothing you should worry about, dear Sir… I'm really sorry for this mess, but I will just, walk a bit and it will be okay, I assu-"

"Cut the lies, son, would you?"

His spine straightened up, and the tired smile he had tried to offer faltered. By the Norns, he had really fallen pretty low, for him, the entity of Falseness and Mischief, to be caught in such a pitiful manner. And what was he calling him again? Alan sighed.

"Listen to me, my boy, you won't go anywhere until I'm certain that you're alright, because right now, you're pale as chalk."

"But I-"

"No "but" on this: if I let you go in this state and ever learn that you faint somewhere in the streets…" His tone deepened. "Or worse… I would never be able to look at myself in a mirror again."

"Then, y-you just have to don't hear the last part of the story and it would solve your pr-problem, ehehe…" A dark glance make him cut his attempt to light the mood.

"Pretty funny, young one, really, but don't joke with that." The tone had changed to reproaches so quickly it startled him. "What are you? 28? 27? Maybe not even 25 without the fatigue painted on your face! Just look at you: it's a miracle that you managed to reach my doorstep with only flesh on your bones!"

He would have liked to bit back, to tell this annoying mortal that he certainly was older than him with a millennium of travels across the Yggdrasil's branches behind him (Norns, he has never thought about what his age could be concerning the Midgardians' standards), but he could feel his eyelids fighting to stay open, his heart still resonating against his temples, and his innards protesting against their emptiness. Human conditions of living were not hard, he rectified, they were _hell_… The other should have sensed his distress, because next thing he knew, he was given a glass with fresh water, and a metal box filled with unknown bakeries (but with a sweet and delicious scent, enough subtle to not make him sick) magically appeared on the table set.

"Take as many as you need, young one, and don't worry, they're on the house!" Alan declared before patting his shoulder. "Now, I will take care of the other clients out there, but I will be back in less than ten minutes, just the time to close for a bit, right?"

"W-Why?" Loki couldn't resist to ask. "Why are you…" _Nice to me?_

"Closing? Because it would be better to not be disturbed while we're peacefully chatting and that you're taking some colours back, hum?"

And with that, he left the not-so-tricky Trickster behind him, alone as he had wanted in the first place. But to be honest, Loki weren't sure if he wouldn't want some company back rather than being the only one to handle all of those new sensations and… pain. His stomach, once again, growled badly, and, as he was temptingly raising a hand toward the container at his sides, he finally understood why the mortal was so distressed about his appearance. He hadn't had the luxury to inspect himself in a mirror lately, and hadn't paid much attention to his reflect upon front windows, too obsessed he was by the idea of finding a shelter (and maybe too high on adrenaline), but… Since when was he able to count each of his veins, running under his wrist's skin? Since when were they so thin?

Instinctively, he began to inspect his entire body. And the statement was alarming. He had never been the thick or muscular kind, quite the opposite even, but sensing his ribs piercing his abdomen, his collarbone tensing under his constricted but feeble muscles and his knees torn around harsh ligaments. It was a whole different story… He then listened to his heartbeat more closely, and again, he had been too happy to regain it that he may have not felt it at the time… And to think that he sincerely believed he had managed to blend into the background thanks to his own skills and intelligence… What a joke. Of course that people wouldn't relate a powerful alien destructive god who almost turned their dear city into ashes with the pitiful kind of human harmless creature he had become… He should have guessed it sooner. Slow… Too slow, even for calm and discrete trained warrior like him. And erratic… Broken.

He almost drank all his water straight. Even if it wasn't real Asgardian mead, which he wouldn't have been able to support in any close scenario, the gesture in itself soothed his mind a bit. He was weak. Weaker than he had imagined. Even defenceless in a way, he was…

_Mortal._

And his seiðr was eating him, each time he forced his body to control it, despite all his knowledges and centuries of mastering he had foolishly considered as a sufficient shield against the energy loss. Using them was no more a question of being detected or not, now it was a vital one. He had had chance back then, to stand an entire day and use them to collect some money and clothes, but his exhaustion overpowering him, the last evening, and this sick impression, this very morning, should have alerted the experimented and versed mage he was.

_No more magic… For now at least._

But how would he be able to survive without his seiðr? It was a part of him, an extension of his own soul and being! Sooner or later, his wealth was going to be entirely spent… Was he supposed to find a job, in order to survive like some vulgar commoner? But then, how would he be able to fulfil his bet if he ever had to work that much? He could steal things, but without his powers and his past agility, he could also get caught too easily. It was likewise if he didn't take more care of his current health: he would be sent to midgardian healers who would ask for his identity, or simply be back to Hlin's closet, and then… End of the game.

"W-What am I supposed to do?" He softly asked to no one in particular.

"Well, I was secretly hopping that you would have helped me to answer that question, young man, but regarding of the events…" The owner quite surprised him before taking a chair in front of him. "… I may be the one to give you a hand, hum?"

And when Loki met the older one's gaze, he can't help but to feel… He, he didn't know how to describe this emotion, he, who had studied countless of foreign languages and dialects which were only talked at the end of some lost nebulas. It was a mix between anxiety, in front of this man who could be able to identify him and, considering his pathetic state, hand him over to the authorities, but also curiosity, for this mortal who didn't even blink when it came to help a perfect stranger above all things, and was also able to read his lies, to read him, without much difficulties… Once again, and in a very (too) short amount of time, the Silvertongue found himself abandoned by his precious words. Perhaps fortunately for him, it was Alan who broke the silence first.

"Well, you don't have to speak or be intimidated, son, I won't bite, I swear! You know what? I'll take the first turn…" He then placed his hand on his heart. "My name is Alan Fahroesky, I will soon reach my eighties and had run this shop for quite the same amount of years! Otherwise, I like coffee, photography, watching sunset and old detectives' movies." He grinned at him. "Now, your turn."

"I…" Loki swallowed hard, his straight back pressed against the chair. "My name is Laurence…"

"Really?" Suspicious brows. "That's a charming name, Laurence…?"

"Just Laurence…" His eyes dropped on his knees. Damn it, he didn't think about a last name, but he won't try to go further in a lie he wasn't even sure of the effectiveness upon that mortal. "Laurence is fine…"

"Okay, okay, don't need to push too hard, son, it's okay. And so you are…?"

"26 years old." _I've no idea, but if I ever tell you1041 you won't believe me the slightest_.

"And so… What are you doing here in New-York, Laurence? Family trip? Solo-expedition? Tourism with frien-"

"Personal affair." _Trying to sort me out of a bet with Destiny, which could result to a permanent one-ticket for emptiness. No big deal._

"I see…" Alan retorted, meditative. "And do you have anyone who you could call to h-"

"I'm alone." _My brother is my only family left, but I can't reach him. Don't even know where he currently is. If he hasn't already forgotten me._ "I'm on my own."

"I've understood that, and is "on your own" a synonym of "starving and dying on the pavement" from where you come from, son?" The tone became a bit more accusatory, but without any kind of violence nonetheless.

"Tss, of course not you stupide mor-" He bit his tongue too late, the snake was out of the box spitting its venom. Why couldn't he just have normal discussion, why was so… angry? Sad perhaps? Raaah, he wasn't even able to tell how he was feeling!

His hands were scratching at the wood in a nervous manner, his eyes always refusing to meet the other's one, too afraid by the verity they could ever reveal. His disgust towards mortals? A drop in the ocean. He has never cared. His rage against his family and kind? A barely living ember. He didn't care anymore. His grief for what, who, he had lost? A crumb already swept. He cared lesser and lesser each day which passed. His remorse?...

_A freacking nightmare._

"Hey, Laurence, son, can you look at me for a sec', would you?" The kind, so kind voice spoke again.

"I…" He didn't resist, he was… lost. Tired. "I don't want any problem, I just want to go and-"

"You know, I've already seen plenty, boys and girls, who had run from their house before, even some far younger than you."

"What…?" He couldn't believe his ears.

"Oh, please, don't "what-me", son, I can see clear in your little stories." A gentle hand found once again his way on his shoulder. "Listen, I don't know why you did choose to leave your home, I've heard so many different explanations before: family issues, bad scholarship, unrequited affection, money, divergence of thoughts and feelings, and so on… But all of them had the same stoical face, the same reassuring words… Always clashing with those desperate eyes. So, _Laurence_, I don't want to listen the "because and since" part, you have your reasons and I respect them, but what I won't accept, young man, is what you are doing to yourself: you just can't continue to wander around in this state!" His callous fingers squeezed his shirt's fabric. "Tell me how I can be of any assistance, believe me, you have nothing to fear from me, I know what it is to fight for a place in this world and if there's one thing life taught me, it's that is better to have someone's watching your back… Unless you want to get stuck to corners all your existence."

Loki was astounded. This mortal wanted to… help him?

"Tss, t-that-s utterly stupide! You… You don't know anything about me and you… You are aware I keeping truth from you, how is it that y- ?"

"Truth, lies: we all are the actors of our life, son, and I don't think theatre was meant to be realistic." The younger gaped while the older took advantage of his astonishment to ruffle his hair. "Plus I like to help my neighbour, that's a part of my heritage I like to keep in practice!"

"Neig-… But, I don't live near from here?"

At that, the merchant burst of laughing.

"Haha, you're quite funny when you want to, y'a know?" He wiped small tears at the corner of his eyes. "It has nothing to do with a measurable distance, my boy, it's more about…" He poked the ex-god's frail chest's centre. "Connexion? Let's say that I had "family-issues" myself when I was about your age: not the funniest part of my life. But one day, as I was trying to… Acquire some cash in a respectful lady's pocket during another of this rainy winter's evening, she caught me "with my hand in the cookie jar" if you allow me the play of word, haha!" Loki wasn't seeing the point in interrupting the old man's stories, no more wasn't he able to tell how money could be linked to some bakeries' storage. "I thought that it was the end of the line for me: police station, no legal papers, say hello to your country again… Back in the fields… Which surely had become battle ones at the time, anyway…"

His eyes grew darker for split of a second. And as he was getting the opportunity to look better at them, Loki silently gulped at the horrors reflecting in them at that moment. In the back of his memories, some war fires lit up again.

"There was a… war? When?" _Which one?_

"It was, hum, December 1955 at the time… But that's not important: you won't find it anywhere in your historical manuals, son. It was just another popular revolution after what took place in this ol' Europe back then… World is always aflame somewhere if you consider it well, that's why I will rather talk you about this _grande dame_…" The smooth voice continued. "Her name was Martha Greene and she was, herself, a descendant from an ancient slaves' family back in the colonies' times. Telling you she had heart would be a euphemism… In my religion we like to think that God gives a piece of His own Love to each of His creations, but today, I will still maintain that He must had graced her with all of It to form a soul so pure and selfless. She listened to my story, gave me a roof and helped me to find small jobs -it was still the epoch when you didn't need a diploma to get quite well paid- and, finally, she gave me the honour to take her little shop at her death… And, hey: here I am! I've money, not mountains but enough to live, I got married and I welcome my grandchildren each week-end, I love my job and have my regular customers with whom I chat and exchange… I'm happy!"

"That's a… great story, I suppose?" Loki declared sipping another glass of water.

"Not the most fabulous one, young man, but as I like to say: that's the little lines which make the great books! And speaking of books…"

Alan got up with his now so characteristic enthusiasm, which still almost startled the ex-god. He came back only half a minute later with a thin notebook, he delicately placed into his incredulous hands.

"This is a guide, with a detailed map of New York and its surroundings, with -little bonus- all the good addresses you should take a look at if you ever need something specific. Aaaaand, here look!" The old man opened on a bended page. Loki recognised the area he had explored those past hours, but especially noticed the big red circle enlightening the place they were standing in. "I think you already guessed, but that's my shop! So, before I finally let you go on your own, can you do something for me, son?"

"Hum? I, well, I suppose it depends, but you can always try, old man…" He wasn't sure about the patronym, but he refused to use the mortal's full name, a respect mostly deserved to nobility on Asgard, and even more to call him "father".

"Promise me this: if you ever -ever you hear me- need help, come knock to my door and don't wait to starve on the sidewalk! Please..." The seller's eyes were full of care and sincerity. His back-story time wasn't there just to look pretty…

_Don't…_

_No promises…_

_NEVER_

"I'll… I will observe your advices in the future." He mumbled, keeping the gift closer to his chest.

"Hum…" He definitely wasn't taking it, but a long sigh and a calming smile made the trickster think that the Midgardian knew forcing him wouldn't go anywhere. Better wait… and hope. "Well, Laurence, as I've probably already said: it was a pleasure to meet you! And next time I see you, you better have more flesh on your bones, y'a heard me?"

"Yes, Mister, thank you again for… your attention."

"Aaaah, don't mention it, son, you'll make this old man blush!"

The time this little polite conversation ended, they were at the shop's hall. Another last recall of the "security rules an' tips", a warm (unexpected) embrace and an energetic goodbye wave later, Loki was in the streets again. After some minutes of pondering what his next step should be, munching the not-so bad sandwich he bought, he eventually settled his mind on a place where he should be able to fill his now oblivious lack of knowledges about Midgard and its traditions. Places he has always loved to frequent: libraries. Opening the guide, he found a note, along with a dollar bill, tied to the first page:

"_I thought that you're currently discovering the area,_

_so I took the liberty to circle some tourism centres and the New York Public Library:_

_you will find as many informations as you want there!_

_I also marked some associations' bases and agencies:_

_if you don't want my help, that's perfectly fine for me, but please,_

_consider to at least give it a try and contact them!_

_Ah, and there's surely a dollar attached to this lines,_

_because I'm no more sure if you will need some cash to pay_

_you a library card: it will enable you to borrow some documents if_

_the need ever arise. If not, buy you a coffee or something._

_And also, here's my phone number, don't hesitate to call me anytime!_

_(when you will find yours back)"_

He couldn't help himself but let a nervous giggle to escape his lips. That silly mortal had thought he was running from his home, and showed him more kindness than his own kind has never done! Was it even real?

The "associations" were out of question: he already managed to attract enough attention for a stupide piece of bread. No, the library, and then, back to his personal hideout, with, pray the Norns, he will be allowed to read in peace and so maybe find some tracks about how to secure his environment… Before dealing with Hlin…

He finished the last mouthful of his frugal meal, drank a bit of water, and left the discrete wall he was leaning against, and took a firm step towards the nearest big avenue where he would then direct himself towards his new goal. In his head, the strange encounter was playing again. "Running from his home"…

_Oh, my dear… human,_

_I didn't care, remember? _

_Meanwhile, in a famous tower ~_

It was a calm and quiet afternoon. The light of this summer's end was just enough warm to her taste and its rays were gracing each corner of the spacious floor with a delicate aura. Something peaceful, agreeable… Homely.

Too bad that this place was, at Ms Potts' eyes, nothing she would now call "home". It was right that every single inch of what was once her and Tony's place had a place in her heart, deep down, a little memory attached to it like a note making her remember "that's where you two meet up every Saturday night" or "that's the window you could always find him looking at after he had an argument with Steve". If Tony were still here, by their sides, by her sides, he would have laughed at her "romantic attitude" and would have, without a doubt, proceeded to name all the spots where they had a "tender hug" (and more). Honestly, she was certain he would have managed to make her blush, but also to pick up them all, moments that she preferred keeping for herself only. If Tony was still here, he would have engaged some men to take those heavy boxes from their private apartments and then carry them to their little cottage, lost in the woods… Even if he would have probably tried to carry some himself, only because "If Capsicle can lift Point Break's hammer, then I sure can handle one or two of those, what do you think Miss Potts?" and she would have responded "Stop making yourself a fool, Mister Stark, and take it to the van before Scotty decided to engage a conversation about his daughter with our poor secretary… Again!". Those stupide heavy boxes she now had to schlep by herself! Lost in her bitter-sweet thoughts, she didn't pay attention to this faulty step, she had although never missed to criticize when they were living here, always asking to his past lover when he would leave his laboratory rats' hole to repair it. She cursed aloud her surprise, and just like the pile of clothes she has been trying to carry out, landed on the floor. Another fall which would leave an umpteenth mark on her skin still painfully healing from the last battle.

Tony would have cracked a joke or two, gave her a hand her to clean the mess, and then kissed her forehead, telling her to relax because "everything would be alright"…

_But nothing is alright_

_It's not the only thing which is a mess_

_Why did you have to do that, Tony? Why did it have to be you?!_

_Why did you that to us? To me, to Morgan, to the Avengers, to…_

"Miss Potts, is everything okay over there?" _Peter…_ "I heard you scream and- Oh my gosh, Miss Potts, what happened?! Are you feeling good?!"

Not even an eyelashes' beat later, and the teen was already helping her to get back on her feet, his lips never seeming out of worried questions and unfinished propositions to unleash. Sweet Peter Parker, always trying to be there when people need some comfort. Poor Peter… Pepper was now used to rub shoulders with trained warriors and heroes: she was able to tell when something was off or burdening them.

"Here you go, Miss Potts! Oh-no please don't bother you- I will clean this- no, no, no, I assure you that's okay!" The young spider smiled. _Forced_. "It was the footboard again, right? Haha, don't feel ashamed, Miss Potts: it gets me every time too!" Long arms came for the scattered clothes. _Thin_. _Pale_. "Ah, I see you have started with the dressing room, that's g-oh! Look at that one!" A deep chuckle. _Mechanic_. "The "Science Bros" shirt: it was one of his favourites, wasn't it, Miss Potts?"

"Peter…?" She asked, voice low.

"Hum?!" On the carpet, a shirt almost folded in hands, the named teen raised his eyes to her level. _Red_. "What is it, Miss Potts? Are you f-Oh my god! I forgot to ask you if you hurt yourself by accident! Is it why you- Shall I call- No, don't move! There's a first aid kit in the bathr-! Oh my, I'm so sor- Miss Potts, what are-?"

The woman shut him with a determined embrace, forcing the little boy from whom she had witnessed the painful growth in a so cruel world, becoming this spectacular, amazing, ultimate hero.

"Mis-?"

"It's okay, Peter… I miss him too… So cut the hero-part with me, would you?"

And, just like some enchantment had been revoked, a shuddering breath resonated under her palms. First came the gritting teeth, the resistance, then hiccups, louder at each attempts to contain them in a tired throat, while wild brown strands of hair slipped against her ear as silent tears were slowly tainted her shoulder.

"_He is just a kid, Tony! He just turned 16!"_

"_Hey, listened, I know what I'm doing a-and he assured me he was 18!"_

"_And you believed him?! Have you thought about lifting you thick metal skull before stating of its veracity?!"_

"_Pepper, honey, love of my life and sugar of coffee, please, listen: I'll watch over him, okay? I'll never let anything happen to the kid… I promised you"_

_You had promised._

_See where we are, now, Tony…_

"M-Miss Potts?"

"Yeah, Peter?" She hummed.

"I-I think that I-I'm feeling better. Could you…?"

"Stop hugging you? Is the great Spiderman embarrassed?" She teased a little, getting pleasure to see some colours coming back to the young one's face, even if it was but a temporary blush.

"O-Of course not! It was really n-nice of you, but I…" His voice deepened, sadness' remainders as quavers. "I miss him so, so much, Miss Potts, and I don't know if…"

"Peter, you-"

"Oh, I-! I'm truly sorry! I wasn't implying that you weren't-!"

"Peter, breathe, it's okay." She cut him before being overwhelmed by another panicked assault. "I understand that the bond that you and Tony shared was unique and special. And I have nothing against it, I truly have, because, Peter, if only you could know how much you've changed him... How much happiness you brought him…" The teen's eyes left hers. "Peter…" She drew his gaze up once more. "He was proud of you, remember this for me… For him. He was proud, and still would be today. Will forever."

"You're welcome, Peter, and you know what? You can keep the box with all his furniture inside." She shushed another complaining grumble. "No, don't argue, he would have loved it, Peter, and you have, in the same way as Morgan and I, the right to keep something from him. I have heard about the clash happening between you and the firm's lawyers the last time you tried to retrieve the projects you were both working on. I can't battle with the administration now that I have retired from most of its activities, and Morgan is a bit too young to take the lead of her father's empire, so it's the least I can do. This, and offering you a glass and a piece of pie each time you will come around the house, because you will, am I wrong Mister Parker?" She admonished him with a falsely accusatory tone.

"Haha, y-yes of course!" Peter responded, trying to match her light spirit. "I still have a pillow-fort to build with Morgan after all!"

"That's right, but, Peter, know that we are here for you Peter, we will always be… You have my number, so anytime you need: just call me, okay?"

"I…! T-Thank you, Miss Potts..." He murmured, pressing the crinkled shirt against his torso. "Thank you very much, really… And, Miss Potts?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"You said that "the bond that you and Mister Stark shared was unique and special", but you are wrong on that part…"

"Hum?" Her concerns for the teen were back, before vanishing in front of a youthful grin, full of nostalgia.

"This bond is still here…" He pointed at his chest. "It- You used the wrong tense: it is the bond that "we share"!" The smiled widened. Maybe to hide the new tears forming at his eyes' corners…

"Of course, Peter…" She added. "You're right…"

She then proceeded to lead the young hero to the main area, where the kitchen and the living room were peacefully taking the dust after their last visit. A good orange juice with some industrial cookies should help them to recover a bit, or that's what she thought when she opened a semi-empty cupboard. Unfortunately, she must have learned from all of these years passed in this hellish Tower, that interruptions were more common than peaceful snacks.

As she was pouring some low-price soda in a cup, cracklings emanated from behind them, just seconds before a quite familiar orange portal made his appearance. If Peter had taken a defensive stance by instinct, he visibly relaxed when the Sorcerer Supreme took a first step among them, totally unfazed by his entering's manners, as usual…

"Lady Stark, Peter: it is nice to meet you both again."

"Oh! Hello to you, Mister Strange, I'm glad to see you!" At least, it seemed that this unexpected encounter managed to give him his joyful character back. "Why are you here? Do you have time to talk about magic? I would like to t-!"

"Hum, no sorry, Peter, I am currently quite busy, and for the umpteenth time, it is "Doctor Strange"…" The older man's sigh almost covering the shy apologies of the spider. "Anyway, Lady Stark, if I'm here today it is to ask you if you know where I could find the remainders of the Avengers. I know that Sir Rogers has taken his retirement and is now training his successor. I also heard about Lady Romanoff's… unfortunate end… However, I don't have any news from the rest of them."

"I can surely h-!" Peter attempted before being cut by a hard gaze Pepper Potts.

"And why would you need any assistance, dear Doctor? It appeared to me that you were perfectly "fine on your own" the last time we saw you…"

"I know that I haven't been the best ally for Tony, and I won't begin another explanation of my duties as the guardian of the Mystical Arts here, Lady Stark, but know that my disappearance and all those distortions in the reality's fabric have… impacted my powers. And… I could need… help for the case I am working on right now." The Sorcerer's eyes left, just for a moment, his audience, fixing the window behind them. Pepper was quite surprised by the other's admission, and even a little amused by the grumpy wizard's shame. It was unusual to see him this uncomfortable. When they came back, it was with a renewed stoicism. "It could be nothing… But I would rather verify this situation before it could worsen. And I know that, as a sciences' adept, I shouldn't let my reason tricking me, …"

"But…?" Peter continued, a bit nervous at the mage's secrecy.

"I have a bad feeling about this." The older stated, flat but serious nonetheless. "A very bad feeling, young Spider."

"And what this "bad feeling" is all about? Could you tell us more about this "case", Doctor?" Pepper inquired, still suspicious. "We already have enough to take care of, after what happened at the unit's basement, don't you think?"

Stephen Strange walked towards one of the over-large panorama windows, his cloak seeming to hold more tightly his svelte (if it's not skinny, which made Miss Potts think twice about the Sorcerer's actual state and her harsh words) silhouette, as if it was trying to bring him some comfort.

"If I could have found another way, enabling me to avoid the involvement of any non-initiate in this affair, Lady Stark, be assured that I would have done it. But Wong and the other apprentices are already taken by their current task: to secure the Sanctuaries across the globe, and I can't ask them for more at the moment…" He sighed, longer this time. Heavy stormy clouds were slowly forming in the distant horizon. "We have big troubles coming for us, Lady Stark…"

"Which are...?" She now asked humbly, anxious by the other's demeanour. "What are you talking about?!"

The Sorcerer Supreme took some seconds to close his eyes: he clearly would have wished for some spare times too. But the realities' safety always comes first.

"A gate, Lady Stark…" His tired baritone declared. "A gate between worlds had been opened, this is what I have felt and what preoccupied me so much. A gate had been opened and something came out of it… Something… Or _someone_…"

Loki was running. Unfortunately, his pursuer was far faster than him, even more if you ever took into account the ex-Mischief god's precious loot he was desperately trying to protect from his unplanned assailant: the rain.

Indeed, he had arrived to the "Public Library" at the afternoon's beginning, and immediately, he had felt in his element. Hours had flowed so fast he had not been able to count them, lost as he was in his researches, in this delicious scent of paper and leather. It may had been hard to resist the urge to stab one or two disrespectful Midgardians (especially this false noble-kind guy who were licking his disgusting fingers each time he wanted to turn a too precious page over…), but, in a more general aspect, he could have told you that this little escapade made him happy. Happier than he have ever felt since… Well, since his death he supposed?

Unfortunately, when he had finally noticed the sun's setting, or whether when one of the infu charming members of this priceless treasure came to "politely ask him" to leave, arms full of borrowed books and encyclopaedias, he had also been the witness of this disaster… Also called "rain". He managed to keep for himself all the curses and maledictions against his brother's stupide element, and began to run. Protecting the documents under his old fine clothes, he was finally reaching the last street's corner before the S.T.Y.X, also known as the "Secured Territorialized Yard – X" he had learned through his researches… Tss, if he'd ever have the opportunity to meet the mortals who had come with this name, he would have some words about their cynic sense of humour! Norns, they could have found a name which would have better fitted their culture and mythology… Like, hum, there: T.H.O.R ! For "Totally Harmless Obliterated Region"! The Liesmith chuckled under the cold shower, imagining the other god's reaction when he would have heard about this decision, his oh-so holly name being attached forever to one of his "adopted brother" 's misdeeds.

_Why do you care?_

_It is not "your culture" anymore…_

_Asgard had been destroyed by your fault. Gods had fallen._

_It's o-_

He cut his inner voice before its fatalist prophecy ended. Hlin told him that Thor and the other survivors had established in Norway, a "New Asgard" (very original): there was still a chance!

_A chance for them._

_You don't belong to Asgard, remember?_

His jaw tightened. The weather was becoming worst, but, thanks the old Odin's beard, he could now see his hideout's door through the heavy raindrops. Still some meters, and he will be able to remove his too thin clothes and dry a bit with the help of some dusty but functional towels he had noticed in some high cupboards from the remainders' of the bathroom. However, as he was climbing the final front steps, he got caught by…

"Hey, you! The man with the long black hair! Don't go there; it's pretty dangerous to venture around those abandoned residences!"

He turned around: a Midgardian was facing him from the other side of the street, waving at him under a… Shop's roofing?

"Mister?! Come over, please! You can wait for the rain to stop inside of my office if you want, I swear I won't mind it at all! But please, don't go over there: it really isn't safe!"

Since when was a shop there? He didn't remem-

_The light…_

Yesterday, before fading, his eyes had caught… a light! It must have been this! Oh Norns, why... He had chosen this area particularly for its tranquillity and -Well, anyways, he better should go in any case and follow the other's instructions. He clearly couldn't let him see where he was going, and leaving without a word would appear suspicious. With the most authentic sheepish grin he could concoct, he crossed the street in two or three large strides, ending at the other stranger's sides. The young man, who was maybe only an inch smaller than the ex-god, with short light ginger hair, discrete freckles and a pair of changing blue eyes automatically opened the door, inviting Loki in a small but clear room. Large front windows where droplets were relentlessly crashing, wooden furniture matching the quite ancient architecture, books and papers, a "cash register" quite similar to the one he had noticed this same midday with the mortal Alan, but more than that… Flowers. Plants, creepers, pots, perennials, of so many sorts! Even some he wasn't able to name, but which were perfuming the little atmosphere with a delicate sent… No threats. Good.

_But there is something else…_

_What is this whis-?_

"My, what a day, is it not right? I was just finishing the day's counts, before closing, as always, and preparing some evening t-…" The other almost dropped the circle framed glasses he was cleaning. "Holly god! The tea!"

And with that, he was running towards an adjacent room from which the sound Loki had perceived earlier was coming. _Thi_? What was this so important "_thi_" for it frightened people at this point? Was it dangerous? He was about to consider his leaving options when his host came back which was seemed to be a large and fuming pot he placed on a designed tray.

"Hum, I am deeply sorry for this scene, but tea is a… Well, I think we could say "sacred" affair: wasting any leaf to burn is out of the question, ehehe!" The strange man chuckled. After taking two cups from some hidden cupboards, he sat at the table and gestured to Loki. "Please, have a seat! The rain won't be over before ten or fifteen minutes, so you can take them to dry a bit while drinking a nice cup of tea, what do you think of it?"

"I, well- yes, thank you… very much, Sir…?" Loki attentively asked before taking a free chair. Act normal. Act mortal.

"Oh! Oh rude of me, please forgive my absent-mindedness: my name is Sam, it's nice to meet you! Mister…?"

"Laurence, and the pleasure is shared." Faked politeness.

"I don't think I had the occasion to see you in this district before: are you new in this area?" The man brought a cup filled with a hot beverage, which, from his flagrance, appeared to come from herbs' extracts. "Here, drink it when it's still steaming: it's a mix of mint, lemon peels with only an ounce of redcurrant's diluted liquor!"

Even if he waited for the other to take the first sip before daring dipping his own lips in what must be the so called _thi_, he eventually let a mouthful warm his throat. And the taste…

"It is… interesting…" Loki was gobsmacked to say the least. Was it truly a Midgardian's drink? "How did you get this…?"

"This tea?" _Tea_. Sam's friendly smile grew more embarrassed as his eyes were living the pots to one of the so many floral layouts. "It is one of my latest creations in fact, I was currently testing the first ebullition before I noticed you in this storm…"

"You… made this?" Impressive… For mortals. "That is… good."

"Really? Oh, thank you very much: I'm glad you like it!" The other beamed. "So, what are you doing here? Tourism? Are you living nearby maybe? Oh- if you don't mind me asking, of course!"

He could have lied easily, the man named Sam didn't seem to be the intelligent kind, just a simple and amicable spirit. Very common. And since it was more than certain that he would have to wander in the area for sometimes, taking the risk of being seen again while declaring he was only a "_one-time passer-by_" was not worthy. More than that, if this mortal was actually the inventor of this liquid wonder, he will have to pay him at least another visit. What? He said the Midgardian clearly had some lack in his understanding process, but he could admire artisan craft when he recognized it as worthy of his status… That was all.

"Well, I have indeed, took up residence, in a certain way, in you charming town not so long ago." He sipped another swallow. "But do tell me, Sam, …" Nicknames. Mortals and their peasants' habits. "…why did you open this pretty… pastoral workshop's of yours in this specific area?" _What are you doing in front of my property Sam?_ "I have heard bad rumours going about it from the neighbourhood and I didn't have seen a lot of clients either: how do you survive here?" _Is it provisional? Are you leaving?_

"Well, you are right about all of those stories, but if I were you, I wouldn't take them for more than what they actually are!"

"And they are…?"

"Stories. To scare children. To perpetuate memories. To push away the fools who think they are stronger than anything and anyone. It is just stories… And it was also the only place I could afford with the few rents I had when I arrived, ehehe!" The tea-maker replied, wild curly hair bouncing at each discrete laugh. "Concerning your previous question, let's say that I managed to keep this very humble business thanks to deliveries."

"Deliveries? How so?" The trickster wasn't giving a damned interest in this flat exchange, but if he ever got the opportunity to orientate this conversation towards its interlocutor rather than himself, then he would size it without thinking twice.

"Hum, well, since not many inhabitants have the heart to come directly here to buy their tea, something that I perfectly understand, they take their order through my Internet website, which enables me to prepare their commands before delivering to them the next day or the other one."

"Through the _World Wide Web system_, then?" He had learned about in the library. Still didn't know how any kind of web could make a planet larger, but he will find and try it sooner or later.

"That is right. It takes me a lot of time and it is sometimes difficult to find a new clientele." The man's eyes became distant for a blink, but only to be lightened up by a warm smile. "But I clearly wouldn't trade my situation for anything on this planet! I even consider myself lucky to have achieved to this point!" he then suddenly turned his attention to Loki. "And what about you? I kept talking about myself, but you: what do you do?"

"I-hum, it's…" Well, goal failed. Vague. "It is still complicated today, I am still-hum- searching for my… road?" _Preferably one very far away from Destiny's claws if it that is even possible… Or just comprehensible._

"Oh, dear, I am truly sorry if I have embarrassed you! I didn't know it was a touchy subject, I beg your pardon…" But then, at Loki's upmost inner terror, Sam took their little discussion to a path he had been trying to avoid at all costs… A deeper level. "You know, I could use of a little help at the shop! If you ever think that it could be in your line of expertise, we could always dis-!"

"Oh by God!" _Whoever the one who hears me_. "I just noticed how late it was and- ah! The rain seemed to have lessened!"

"Well, yes, but if you w-…" He gathered his paltry belongings too fast for his interlocutor to encourage him to stay.

"I am deeply sorry for the interruption: I will be on my way now! To the pleasure of meeting again!" _Never_.

And with that, without looking back to witness a confused unexpected neighbour, he was running again, far away in the streets, where he would cautiously take his time before heading back to his "borrowed residence" and when he certainly should not have the misfortune to encounter another unbearably intrusive mortal again.

"What a strange character… He didn't even take the time to finish his tea…" A small smile. "But I don't know why, I have a feeling we will meet again, ehehe!"

They would have rather wished to never have to deal with that ever again. To deal with _him_. The Fate's servant took some steps further in one of the Central Europe's typically dense forests. The moonless sky above their head wasn't helping her researches. However, they didn't knew why they were still trying: their nostrils had already caught the signs of his escaped far before they decided to inspect the scene. A criminal spectacle. The bloody, grim and tasteless sort.

Everywhere, from the once deep green grass to the almost fallen trees… Blood. Animals'. Human's. They could smell their so particular scent. It should have been unfortunate campers, maybe gamekeepers. Too late. Too bad. More work ahead. It wasn't hunt anymore: it was death's lust. Vengeance. Hlin emptied their daily seventeenth cup of black coffee. As if it wasn't enough hard as it has already been…

_I should have been more careful._

What now? They couldn't let _him_ wandering around like that, _he_ still was under their authority and jurisdiction after all. But with all this delay in their affairs? And this unplanned deal's th-

_By the Nor-…_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_I have to warn Loki._

. Current state: alive

. Aims: uncertain

. Time left: 28 days

_~ To be continued…_

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